This week's 99 word flash fiction was to write a lifespan. The prompt reminded me of a metaphor often used in therapy to explain the relationship between a therapist and client. Instead of imagining the therapist has more wisdom or knows more answers, a client is asked to imagine the therapist is climbing their own mountain, but because they have a different perspective, they can see the obstacles on the client's mountain a little more clearly. Writing a lifespan means taking a step back, seeing the forest and the trees, having a long view. Maybe one day, I'll have that too.
Check out the contributions from the other Rough Writers.
She started and ended the same way. Fragile, dependent, full of curiosity and wonder. In between her first and last breath, she learned to love, to hate, to be brave, to forgive. She learned that grief made her life more meaningful and taking risks is what kept her alive. She became stronger than she thought she’d ever be, and softer too. Able to soothe the glorious, savage beast her body brought into the world. She watched the tiny boy grow into a man she loved as much as the one she had lost. She had lived. She was proud.