I love living on the lake front trail where I enjoy cheering on the teams of bikes going by, saluting them with a cookie from my comfy chair. I myself retired from running the trail a few years ago and am now a walking enthusiast who gets to leisurely enjoy the surrounding community and organized trail. I went from focusing on my running time and icing my hips to smelling the roses and becoming a nosy neighbour who judges gardens, window treatments and can’t help but search out the bizarre.
When I do find something unusual, I quickly jump into concocting story about it, getting nitty gritty with the details of the who, what, where, when, why, and how of it all. It is a spin on the classic people watching in a mall while eating a cinnabon, except this involves petunias, garage organizations, and lawn ornaments. I truly never know what I will find during my treasure hunt of nosiness!
Currently there are two observations in particular that have the attention of my childish imagination:
Story Numero Uno… smack dab in the middle of a disorganized garage stands a door; just a random door with a frame around it. I have attempted to peer around it to see if there is something on the other side, but I just can’t seem to get the right angle from the street! And although this garage is anything but organized, there is a ring of space around it, so like the proverbial cheese, it stands alone. My current top three possible stories for it are:
- they are building a safe house in their garage and clearly know something I do not!
- it is the beginning of one of those pieces of art that make millions but make no sense.
- it is the door to Narnia… all of my will goes into not attempting to see if this one is true!
Story Numero Dos... there is a man in his late 60’s that I've caught in the mornings sleeping in his car out front of his house (or so I assume it's his house). I am sure there are rational reasons for his situation, but my brain is playing with the following more irrational wonderings:
- he is the world’s worst private detective who no matter how much caffeine or chocolate covered coffee beans he downs, his narcoleptic ways always seem to get the best of him.
- his rolling pin wielding wife changes the locks whenever he stays out late at night so he is stuck there until forgives him… yet again.
- he shares his home with a boogieman and it is just easier to give him the house at night.
Coming up with the stories during my walk keeps me amused and helps me exercise my over active imagination along with my calves!
The problem with having an imagination that is always on a sugar high kicks in when I start doing this with my own life. When instead of discovering the truth, I choose to make up a story which paints me, life or the people around me in an unflattering light. For some reason, these stories always assume the worst and question my worth, make me feel insecure in a friendship or feed an irrational fear. They are easily made into excuses and yet another creative way to beat myself up.
The one question that has saved me from going down this rabbit hole of made up stories is simply... is that true?
Is it true I’m not worthy?
Is it true I’m not good enough?
Is it true I’m too afraid?
Is it true I’m alone?
Is it true they have better things to do?
Is it true they don’t care?
And when I’m really honest with myself, the answer always ends up being a resounding, no! So then I need to get parental with my brain and say, ‘thanks head, that isn’t helpful’, letting it go and being brave enough embrace the truth. Because the truth is always kinder than any worst case scenario story I can make up.
For as much as I love to spin a yarn, when it comes to how I see myself or those I love, the truth is always so much more wonderful than fiction.