The stories I have been told in my childhood were fairy tales but if my aunt visited us and sneaked upstairs she told about the three puglets. Each time a new adventure she made up. The theme was one of the pictures on the lamp. I remember the lamp, that it was dark geen but not the pictures on it. In my mind there were only three. The story she told was short but long enough for some who was not allowed to be in my bedroom and it gave me something to think about. It helped to forget that empty feeling, the feeling of not being accepted and the fear I still felt at that time.
My parents never told me any story neither did my grandparents. There was no need to I could read at a young age and they were no storytellers. The sound of my mother's voice was terrible it hurt my ears and my father mainly dictated words to write properly and be ahead of my classmates.
The only other stories came from the Bible. Actually always the same stories told in an unattractive way at home, most likely more interesting at school (the day was started with a prayer and Bible story) and Sunday school. Stories can be so relaxing and while writing this I suddenly remember Kindergarten. That teacher told a story too I assume at noon. We little children lay on mats on the ground and fell asleep. Kindergarten still existed at that time and little children played, drank milk at school and had the right to sleep. Thirty years ago Kindergarten came to an end. Children no matter how young have to visit school. There's no time for stories or a nap to be a child anymore.
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