Who do we think we're telling the story of ourselves to? Do other people live, as I do, with the vague sense that the story of my life is performed in front of a witness other than myself?
In my case, I wonder, is it some notion of God? Is it a residue structure from early childhood, when my mother knew all? A close friend of mine lost her husband, also a dear friend, just over a year ago and it seems clear among many other things, he was the one witnessing her life.