Story

That even in another body

Your laughter, though pitched anew, keeps the same cadence

Your movements, though in new flesh, keep the same dance

Your thoughts, though housed in another chamber, keep the same song

Perhaps what makes us “us” is not the vessel we carry or the forms we take,

Not the years we inhabit,

Nor the face we come to know in mirrors.

But the lessons we give and gather,

The memories we hold, cherish, and share.

What makes us “us”

Is the story we tell --

And the story others continue when we are gone.