Tell Me a Story: Why We Never Outgrow the Need for Stories
About a week or so ago, I was sitting on the couch watching TV late at night when our daughter Allie came downstairs to join me. She was on a call with a friend, half-present, half-not, when she started asking me questions. About dinosaurs, about the museum and about when I worked there. The kind of casual curiosity that feels almost accidental. As I answered, something subtle happened. Her questions kept coming. The call with her friend ended. And suddenly, she was fully there…listening, asking follow-ups, engaging. Not scrolling (mostly). Not multitasking. Just listening. After a bit, she stood up and told me she was heading upstairs to bed. Responsible. Self-aware. The kind of choice you quietly applaud as a parent. Amy taught her that.
And that’s when it hit me. Whether she realized it or not, she had come downstairs asking me to tell her a story.
Of course, I obliged. What parent wouldn’t? There’s something irresistible about being asked, without irony or eye-rolling, to recall your “glory days.” I felt a little like an aging adventurer being approached about the tales of his youth, dusting off memories that hadn’t been revisited in a while. But the moment lingered longer than the conversation itself.
It made me think about how stories show up in our lives. When we’re young, stories are everywhere. Bedtime rituals. Familiar voices. Safe endings. Stories teach us how the world works and, just as importantly, reassure us that it will work out.
As we get older, the structure disappears…but the need doesn’t. We still want to hear stories. To learn about someone. To understand where they’ve been and how they became who they are. Sometimes, we just want the comfort of a familiar voice carrying us somewhere else for a few minutes…away from whatever stress or uncertainty is sitting in our own heads. Stories distract us. They soothe us and they connect us.
That night wasn’t about dinosaurs or museums. It was about connection and about pausing the noise of the day. About being present with someone you trust and letting their words carry you somewhere else for a moment. If we’re lucky, we get stories when we’re young. And if we’re really lucky, we still find ourselves…years later…quietly asking for one more. As a parent, definitely beyond my days of careless adventure, it was nice to be asked and definitely nice to be heard.