Two years ago, I had an idea called A Considerable Age, and I subscribed my immediate family to this potential folly and persuaded a handful of close friends to do the same. Crossing my fingers, I hoped there would be a modest uptick in subscribers, and I thought perhaps a few individuals would be interested in contributing their own stories because I was sure as hell I couldn’t write one every week.
As time passed, more friends hopped on board, and even strangers started reading. Slightly less folly, it started to seem. What's truly exhilarating is that today, there are readers from all corners of the globe. Forty-seven countries.
Over the past two years, more than thirty writers, each with a unique story, have joined me, and without fail, we have published a story every Sunday morning. Some writers brought considerable experience, having authored books and published extensively. Others simply had a story they were eager to share. All of us were grateful when readers expressed their appreciation by hitting the little ❤️ emoji or left comments when something resonated (or didn't).
I love people’s stories and can listen to someone reminisce, whether for hours or just the duration of a shared meal. Some stories unfold gradually, others are short and imbued with humour. I love reading stories that teach me something, touch my heart, or make me laugh. My heart aches when adversity befalls someone, and I marvel at their remarkable resilience. I am intrigued by the details of people's lives and what we share.
One of my most cherished experiences was sitting with my father during the last years of his long life and listening to his stories; most he had never before shared with me. His stories were the kind that took time to unfold, and each one felt like receiving a gift.
While I consider myself a private person, sharing stories online and working on a book inspired by my father’s stories has challenged that perception. Writing has taken me to surprising and occasionally challenging new places.
Thank you for your support and for joining me every Sunday morning. It’s been a fun project and a labour of love, and I am beyond grateful for your participation. I encourage you to consider sharing your stories; there is so much we can learn from one another. There is not a single person out there who doesn’t have a story to tell.
I have some plans for the upcoming year, and I will share them with you in the coming weeks. Wherever A Considerable Age goes, my hope remains that when you open your inbox on Sunday mornings and read the email from me, you will feel as though a close friend is telling you a story—something they want to share.
Here in Montreal, it’s unseasonably warm, the trees are bare, and there’s not even a sprinkling of snow on them to make it all look magical. The skies are mostly grey, and the sun goes down around 4:30, long before I have even started to make dinner. But the shortest day of the year has passed, which means my world is slowly turning back toward the light.
I hold on to that extra bit of light each day to remind me of my lucky life. I’m grateful that I don’t live in a war zone, a country with a dysfunctional government or a place without food or safe drinking water.
But it’s impossible to ignore the news, and sometimes impossible to bear the drastic challenges faced by others. All I can do, in my small way, is turn towards the light.
Today, on the eve of the new year, while the world feels like it’s on fire and its problems seem insurmountable, my wishes are for the light we can all strive for: health, quality family time, kindness, meaningful friendships, joy and laughter, and, of course, an abundance of light from our shared stories because they connect us all.
Back next week with a story. Meanwhile, let me know what is bringing you light these days!
In a world that can seem more than daunting, it's essential for each of us to find the light. Heading into the new year, the peace and comfort of being with those that are dear to us brings that light into our lives, be it online through shared stories or in person over a coffee or a meal. May 2024 bring light to all.
Your own writing feels generous, modest, and kind, Alice, and you invite us to join you and share your space. Thank you and good luck with your book on your father.