Ana ran her thumb over the cool hard surface of the river rock.  “Mom, I feel like this stone.  All this pain, it’s wearing me down.”

Grace’s empathic senses could feel the pounding in her daughter’s skull, the constant headaches that wouldn’t go away.  Hopefully the doctors would find answers soon.  For now they could have perspective.

She took the rock from her daughter’s hand, ran her fingers over its smooth surface.  “This had jagged edges once.  The water refined it.  The river’s rhythms changed it, took away all its rough edges in exchange for something polished, something beautiful.  You are a bit like this stone.  All that pain, it’s changing you.  You’ve learned how to slow down and enjoy the little things.  You have more kindness, gentleness, patience, and understanding than you did before.”

Ana took the stone back from her mother.  “I guess I didn’t realize.”  Back in her hand, she ran her thumb over the cool hard surface of the river rock.  “It is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”  Grace’s assurance made Ana smile.  And in that moment, the headache didn’t feel quite so bad.

This entry was posted in Flash Fiction and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Perspective

  1. viviankay says:

    Very nice, perspective. Love you always.

  2. Joyce Poiisel says:

    You should start writing a novel. You have a natural talent.

  3. mytiturk says:

    Creative. Keep creating and expanding. Thanks for liking “Fire.”

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