Our conversations are worn-out and lackluster, like long-forgotten playthings from a dusty toy box pushed far in the corner. We’ve outgrown them and I’m weary of picking them up yet again. Always the same questions, always the same answers. I can mark off the standard topics in my head. Must we revisit that brief liaison from 10 years ago once more? Autopsied and buried a long time ago, why must we still chatter about these dead things? We can blame it on inertia. Last night, I was re-reading Natalie Goldberg’s book, Writing Down the Bones. In it, she discusses hosting story-telling circles in Taos. During the circles, she would ask a question, such as, “Tell us a story you love to tell,” and then each friend in attendance would recount their colorful, detailed story to the delight of the other participants. Can we try something similar to break through this repetition of a played-out history? The next time we meet for dessert, let’s pretend we’re new acquaintances and begin with those questions asked by newfound friends over our dishes of chocolate pudding. If we ask fresh questions, I think we’d be amazed by the answers.