The Stories We Carry

Hey Stranger,

Recently, I found myself at my very first Moth Story Slam. The theme for the evening was "I Got It from My Mama," and as the mother of four, I couldn't resist. It felt like the kind of night that would be filled with laughter, memories, and maybe a few surprises.

My daughter and I arrived early, found our seats, ordered something to snack on, and settled in as the room slowly filled. Then the lights dimmed.

Ten people.

Ten true stories.

One shared theme.

For the next couple of hours, strangers stood before a room full of people and shared pieces of their lives. Some spoke about becoming mothers themselves. Others told stories about their own mothers, grandmothers, or mothers-in-law. Some stories were hilarious. Others were heartbreaking. Many were both.

I laughed.

I cried.

I found myself nodding along, recognizing little pieces of my own life inside theirs.

That is the quiet power of storytelling.

A good story isn't just something we listen to. It's something we enter. As we listen, we begin searching our own memories. We remember people we've loved, mistakes we've made, moments we've celebrated, and losses we've carried. Even when someone's life looks completely different from our own, we discover emotions that feel deeply familiar.

Storytelling reminds us that beneath our different experiences, we share so much.

It helps us see the humanity in one another.

It softens judgment and makes room for compassion.

It reminds us that none of us are walking through this life alone.

As I drove home that night, I realized I hadn't simply spent an evening being entertained. I had spent an evening being connected—to strangers, to my own memories, and to the universal threads that weave all of our stories together.

Perhaps that's why stories have been passed down for generations. They help us make sense of our lives. They remind us that joy, grief, fear, hope, love, and resilience are experiences we all share in one form or another.

Stories don't just tell us who someone else is.

They gently remind us who we are.

With Love,

Maria