Stages
Mom…
As I finish unpacking, I find the 8x10 frame, hidden among my “unmentionables” as Mom puts it. She always goes above board to appear “proper”, though in this day and age that fact is lost on most. I don’t get embarrassed like I used to as a kid. At 38 years old I am comfortable with myself and am able to appreciate my mother for all her wonderful qualities and forgive her faults as she has always forgiven mine. I validate her attempts to “put me on the right track” as her way of balancing out the fact that I never had a father. I remember three years ago, on my birthday, Mom reminisced about my birth. She was my age when she got pregnant, unmarried like me. I’m grateful that at this point she can remember the good times without that pained expression that always showed up when I was younger and asked for details.
The frame …
A beautiful sterling silver creation that I know Mom would have seen as befitting its treasured contents. The collage of pictures housed within depicts her and me at various times through the years starting from my babyhood. I look at a picture of me nestled in her arms when I couldn’t have been more than a year old. I’m sucking my thumb and holding onto a lock of her hair. At about six I am peeking around the corner of a poster with a large heart I had drawn, that was supposed to be her name. Ten finds me in another embrace, but I don’t look as content as before. I remember that was about the time I had a crisis of identity. In my concrete reality, I had started questioning Mom’s reasons for why I only had one parent. That’s not a time I think either of us would want to return to. I understand its inclusion in the ensemble though. Mom always says, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and I have the muscles to prove it.” I laugh at this because coming from her petite frame you wouldn’t believe it. It’s true though, at least where it counts most. I glance at my high school graduation, the picture of my first apartment at college, and I’m drawn to a picture of us sitting at our favorite downtown bistro back home. I remember the many times we would sit there and discuss plans, plans for the future, educational goals, vacations and finally my opportunity to come here.
… I put the frame of my life on the dresser and finish unpacking.
Reflection About Project:
This was an intimidating task to undertake. I am not by nature a creative person and I felt this project was requiring something of me that I didn't have to give. However, it ended up being fun and I got to know Piaget's theory on another level and find a different way to apply it.
Please don't judge too harshly, remember I am operating outside my "zone"!
This is lovely, Rebecca! Would you please do a quick explanatory writeup to complement your story?
ReplyDeleteThank you for the feedback!
ReplyDeleteWriteup:
My highest score on the multiple intelligences quiz was in the Lingiustic category. As I read about Piaget's cognitive development theory, I pictured the stages framing a person's life. My short story is an extension of that picture.
The narrator of the story is in the Formal Operations stage of development. The picture of the baby represents the Sensorimotor stage, the six year old is in the Preoperational stage, the ten year old is in the Concrete Operational stage, and the rest of the pictures and ending take the reader back to the Formal operational stage. For each stage I included clues that would be understood by someone who knew Piaget's theory but were hopefully not so obvious as to completely detract from the story being told.
I had fun doing this project! Thank you Dr. Cox.