July 22, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that has a shift in perspective. It can be a transition of one character or a change between character points of view. Go where the prompt leads, either technically or creatively.
Charli Mills, in her weekly post here, has been gaining a new perspective on her home, her pets, her friends and life in general.
We, the Textiliste and I, have journeyed to the Outer Hebrides. Part of the United Kingdom, it is at the other end of this long straggly, craggy country of ours. The same yet different. It throws out conundrums aplenty – road signage in Gaelic, for starters. The images are universal, the descriptions impenetrable. Something familiar in an unfamiliar setting.
We visited a ruined chapel one day.
We looked through this long abandoned window to the next and then beyond. It was cold, the wind bit into our necks. About were many houses, once homes, now left to rot. A scene of resignation, of lives meandering meaninglessly to eventual repatriation. It was easy to admire nature, to lust after the stunning beaches, to breathe deep of the saturated Atlantic air and ignore the human cost. Youngsters wondering at a future that the TV and Internet promised them but not here, not on these islands. At times it felt as if we were at a wake. À la récherche du temps perdu. In search of lost time, Marcel Proust’s definitive work on love seemed an appropriate text somehow. We were looking back at their future, longing for something now long gone it seemed.
But, and here’s the thing, when you look through a window you don’t see the whole room. Your perspective is limited. Here, superfast broadband is becoming a reality. The Harris Tweed industry booms, courtesy, in part, of the egregious excesses of First World High Fashion. There are growing opportunities. Beyond those lichen encrusted window arches are the most fabulous of wild flowers. Beauty, hope, budding there if only you take the time to shift perspective. Don’t come burdened with your preconceptions.
As Proust said,
If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less, but to dream more, to dream all the time
We need to dream to widen our perspectives, to open our minds. Travel can be as much a limiting experience if all we do is carriage our baggage with us. Put it down, look up, smile and embrace the unfamiliar. It’ll change your perspective for the better.
Mary is now a mother again; her new born is healthy and she is home. Here’s the next part of her story.
Refracting one life through the prism of another’s
‘This is my niece? Beautiful.’ Rupert smiled, his smile clearly genuine.
Mary hesitated then held out her arms. Rupert took the child expertly. He put a gentle kiss on her head. ‘Thank you, Mary. Sharing your family means a lot. I…’
She put a hand on his sleeve. ‘Shh. It doesn’t matter. Not now.’
He fumbled in his pocket. ‘I’ve been through father’s journals. I found a picture of you and…’
Mary raised her face to him. ‘That doesn’t matter either.’
‘No, not to you. I get that.’ He turned and said to himself. ‘But it does to me.’
If you want to catch up the previous episodes are here.
And the title to this post? Abraham Lincoln inspired it thus:
“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”