When George was confined to a wheelchair, I used to take him to a park for lunch. It was nice to get him outside.
On one occasion, once I settled him in, I glanced around. There was a grandfather teaching his grandson to fish; a group of mothers walking with their children; off in the distance, a company picnic.
My eyes were then drawn to the road. The cars drove by at 40 mph. In an instant, they passed from my sight. I thought about perspective. While driving, the park vanishes quickly. While in the park, the cars vanish quickly.
Suddenly, my thoughts were broken by a small voice. “Look. Look Mommy!”
I turned around and saw a little girl, no older than 5, reaching down to pick up a large pinecone. As she stood, she raised her treasure high above her head and once again exclaimed with excitement, “Mommy, Look!”
The mother, a few steps ahead, turned and simply replied, “Yes, that’s a pinecone.” She was uninterested. I again thought of perspective. To the mother, it was just a pinecone. But to the wide-eyed child, a treasure.
I watched them as they continued to walk around the pond. The little girl held onto her treasure, despite her mother’s lack of enthusiasm.
I then looked over at George as he sat quietly eating. Perspective, I thought. To some, he was just an old man eating a sandwich, to me – a treasure.
In the Work,
Director and Lead Facilitator, Omega Vector
Omega Vector is a 501(c)(3) Non-Profit Arizona Corporation