What we talk about when we talk about ...

"Nobody seems to care about old family stories ..."  After a pause, my father continued; "maybe it is the law of nature."

"I agree with you" I chimed in.  "I find it strange myself.  I feel so connected with the old stories."

Father knows well about my keen interest in the old family stories.  More than once, he has been pleasantly surprised that I have even able to augment the conversation with facts about events and people from well before my time.

Talking about old stories, even if repetitious, is how we remember the people and the events.  It gives us an enormously rich sense of where we came from and how far we have come.  Those certainly help me understand my place in this cosmos as I fend off the existential crisis.

Sometimes, we tell each other that we have talked enough about the old stories.  The reading of the puranam ends, for that conversation at least.

Most of the old stories that we talk about are heartwarming. But then there are those that make us dwell on the unpleasant tastes that life leaves on our tongues.

I remember coming across a wonderful line by Haruki Murakami, which Google helped me track down:

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.

May you create your memories that will warm you from the inside, about which you can then talk about.