I was sitting alone on the park bench. An elderly man shuffled by and paused.

"Is this seat free? Mind if I sit?" he asked.

"Yes, Uncle, please." 

He sat down with a sigh. "Ah, life's becoming harder, isn't it?"

I smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess."

He looked at me with wise, weathered eyes. "I've lived most of mine. You, on the other hand, have you started living your life."

I hesitated. "Yea  already started..."

He asked. "Tell me a story of yours".

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There's a story inside you, isn't there? A real one. So, what's your story?"

"My story?" I echoed, unsure.

"Yes, your story. There must be something."

I looked away, embarrassed. "I... don't have one."

He leaned back and smiled. "Then how can you say you've started your life when there's nothing to tell?"

I stayed silent.

"Write your story, kid. A story worth sharing. A story people will want to hear. When you come back and sit here again, with something to tell-something real-that's when your life has truly begun."

I don't know where he is now but yes uncle I have a story now.