I just finished reading one of the most endearing novels I have EVER read. Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella is a tale about a somewhat lost 20-something old girl named Lara Lington who gets enlightened by none other than the ghost of her recently deceased great aunt Sadie. Sadie appears as her 23 year old self and she is in search of a necklace she remembers wearing when she was the happiest in her life.
So the quest begins for Lara to find said necklace so that she can get rid of this obnoxious great aunt, who enjoys meddling in her life by screaming loudly at random people, making them do crazy things without them knowing why. The longer it takes, the more Lara finds out about Sadie and all of the untold stories that her family never knew. They become friends.
This is only a brief synopsis and I'm really not doing it any justice, but one scene in the story particularly reached out to me. It's when Lara takes a box of old Fred Astaire and Ginger Roger's movies to the nursing home in which Sadie passed away in. Her hopes in doing this are to possibly bring a smile to some of the faces who perhaps remember the first time they went to see these movies. As the nurse pops the tape in, Lara stands back and watches the faces of these people transform. Recognition hits them and a smile spreads across the face of an older man, sitting in a wheel chair in the corner. As Lara continues to watch, it's almost like they all transform into their 20 year old selves and it hits her. They are in old bodies, but they relive the happiest times of their lives day in and day out...and no one even knows or notices. They all have their own "Sadie" stories to tell.
This got me thinking, we ALL have our "Sadie stories". There is so much about my families' lives that I don't know about. Friends too. I look back and can see my great grandmother cooking us her famous macaroni and cheese while my great granddaddy sits in his ratty chair, drinking coffee out of a saucer plate. I remember the old picture of his and his brother in the army hanging on the opposite wall. And I can see so clearly the old glass coca cola bottles hanging out on the back porch in numbers. But this is all I knew. They were once my age. They lived through some of the most amazing history in the world. We read it in our history books in school, about the Great depression and World War 1 and all the wars that followed...but they LIVED it. They are a part of that history and so much more.
The same goes for my grandparents. Their lives before I came along are such a mystery to me. I remember hearing bits and pieces while growing up, but there is so much more I want to know. We take advantage of what we have when we still have it and the chance to learn more about it. But once these people are gone, their stories go with them. This perhaps explains my somewhat morbid obsession with cemeteries. There is so much history that never makes the fine print of the books we read in school.
So here is my challenge. I want to hear your story. Something or someone that you remember that has helped make you who you are. And if you don't tell it to me...please, tell it to someone. We only have so much time on this Earth and who knows where we go afterwords. The important thing is to leave something behind for those who come after you. Don't be an untold story. As miniature as you might feel in the grand making of history, you're a part of it regardless. If you want to leave your mark.....don't be an untold story.
