I wrote my first story in second grade. It was the typical back to school assignment. “What did you do on your summer vacation?” The answer, apparently, was not much. But I was anxious to show off the printing skills I learned the previous school year and practiced religiously over the long, hot summer. I also wanted to impress my new teacher. My story consisted of a single sentence: “I saw a purdy puddle on my summer vacation.” When my teacher, Mrs. Stockman asked for clarification, I confessed that I had lied. Summer, at that age, was such an immense span of time that memories blurred into each other, and I couldn’t come up with just one thing to write about. However, it had rained that morning before school and as I stood at the bus stop, I saw a puddle in the asphalt that seemed to contain all the colors of the rainbow. Of course, I came to learn that my rainbow was nothing more than gasoline on the surface of the water, but at the time, in my young imagination, it contained a world of possibility and wonder.

To this day, language remains the way I express the possibility and wonder I see both in my imagination and in the world around me. Even during those times when that world is troubled and difficult. In college I studied both writing and cultural anthropology. Over the course of my studies, I became fascinated with other cultures and the stories and wisdom they had to share. I listened and learned and what I learned made me both a better writer and a better person. To this day, whether telling my own stories or the stories others have entrusted me with, I am amazed at the possibility and wonder they contain. I look forward to working with my Story Terrace clients and helping them share their wisdom with the world.