{"id":2462,"date":"2017-10-13T18:24:07","date_gmt":"2017-10-13T18:24:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/stories-in-skin\/"},"modified":"2023-04-20T18:11:52","modified_gmt":"2023-04-20T18:11:52","slug":"stories-in-skin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/blog\/stories-in-skin\/","title":{"rendered":"Stories in Skin"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\n\tWords: Christine Rollings<\/a><\/span>\n\t\n\tPhoto credit: Brigitte Tohm<\/a><\/span>\n\t<\/div>\n

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We\u2019re riding down the highway. I\u2019m in the passenger seat and the Buick feels comfortable and still a little like a boat, so they say. I understand that. Perhaps I can add that we\u2019re floating down the highway, ever so steadily.<\/strong><\/p>\n

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You get a moment in time. You get a glimpse of just a split second into the lives of the other boats on the I-84 sea. There\u2019s a couple looking at each other with delight and there\u2019s another woman eating a banana. I hope she gets more lunch when she gets to where she\u2019s going.<\/p>\n

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Along the side of the road there\u2019s a man standing beside a woman at her car. He leans in and she smiles sweetly. He puts his hand on her waist and pulls her close as we drive away.<\/p>\n

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We never get to know more of their story. Even if I met them, I wouldn\u2019t remember; I wouldn\u2019t recognize their faces. I\u2019ll never know if the man and woman who rode in a silent tension resolved their differences or if he brought her flowers that night when her heart ached because she was tired of feeling so alone.<\/p>\n

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Before the age of cell phones and iPads and watching television in the car, my brother and I told our own stories. We looked in the car next to us and told each other about Sam and Lyle as they road tripped down to Florida for their momma\u2019s funeral. We laughed because Richard and Francis hated the way that Samantha\u2019s feet stank up the car when she rested them on the dashboard.<\/p>\n

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These days I try to observe more, but there\u2019s some storytelling that comes with that too. Imagination is birthed from curiosity.<\/p>\n

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The people around us are stories in skin. Most of the time we only get a quick glance into that story, much like when you look over at the book of the person next to you on the plane (you only feel comfortable to let your eyes linger on the page for a second). In that time, you see one word. Maybe two. You don\u2019t know the plot or the characters or the twists and turns, the heartache and the celebrations. You don\u2019t know if the main character has stinky feet.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But there are still some things we can assume. We know our own story and we know that there are similar themes; we don\u2019t look at that driver, at that page, in a vacuum. We know they are going somewhere or coming from somewhere, and that they now or at one time had a momma who loves them very much.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In those momentary glimpses along the highway when I feel bold enough to sing (or shy because I don\u2019t know the words), I see that I\u2019m not alone. I don\u2019t know the full story, but the glance is enough to celebrate that we get to be alive in our own stories, stinky feet and all.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

About the author: Christine Rollings loves capturing moments and emotions, keeping them forever in words (and sometimes in pictures on Instagram: @christinetinelizabeth<\/a>). As global nomads, she and her husband are savoring the New England autumn while preparing for a move to the Mediterranean.\u00a0 They blog weekly, sharing curated lists of fun finds from the internet and beyond. Keep in touch: www.stuffworthsharing.life<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  We\u2019re riding down the highway. I\u2019m in the passenger seat and the Buick feels comfortable and still a little like a boat, so they say. I understand that. Perhaps I can add that we\u2019re floating down the highway, ever so steadily.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":1218,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2462","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-all"],"acf":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2462","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2462"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2462\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1218"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2462"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2462"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bellagracemagazine.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2462"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}