I am a collector. Not of material things, but of stories. All my life I have heard and stored stories in my head. When I was just a child, I tried to make sense of things that happened. For example, it was easy to explain why it rained and why thunder occurred. I knew the answer. It must be God watering his yard and some of the water splashed out and down on us. After he watered the lawn, he and his friends would play croquet and as the giant balls collided, it made what we heard as thunder. That was my story and I eagerly shared it with all the boys and girls in my neighborhood. Life was much easier then and could be explained. Things I couldn't understand, I stored away. As I grew, it became harder and harder to explain the things that happened and I couldn't figure out all the reasons. But I watched the results. I saved them in the folds of memories, waiting until I had more information. Now, as an adult, I recorded them into Puffs of Smoke; little stories about lives that have stayed with me for years. Some, I never solved or figured out the reasons they happened. I am still trying to understand these events and the people who were involved. By inventing words to describe them, it is my intent to give some clarity to the motivations of the actors. Some stories are funny; others are dark, just like life. Most are a little of both. I hope you enjoy them.