A teenagers perspective on perspective

A short story based on true experiences.

I sat in the musty air of Glenwood assisted living. I looked up and noticed a light flicker. The kind lady sitting across from me was occupied hacking up a lung. The carpet was a mural of stains. On the tv Luke combs played his guitar, singing about some hookup. Sitting on the worn floral couches was an audience of elderly women, watching Luke, eyes full of desire. This underwhelming environment was now the home of my sweet grandmother.

As a CNA walked past one of the sofas, she was stopped by one of the women. Karla, a 92-year-old woman, who had been diagnosed with dementia one year prior, looked at the CNA expectantly and asked

“Sweetheart, who is that on the screen there?”

The CNA informed her that it was the country artist Luke Coombs.

“Oh, I see” replied Karla “Now how much would it cost to buy one of his CDs”

While Karla inquired about purchasing a CD, I turned to my grandmother.

“How are you liking living here grandma?” I questioned.

“Oh, do I really have to answer that?” Grandma replied with a grin.

“You see life is just not fair. I would not want to tell her that she is not getting fair treatment because that would just make her sad, and what good would that do? I just do the best that I can to make things fair, because that’s all you can do. And you see, I just do not understand why you get to be prettier than the rest of them!” Grandma Susan replied.

In all honesty, I had no idea what she was talking about. This is about how our conversations usually went. I would ask grandma a question, and soon enough, she would end up rambling on and on about who knows what. The best I could do is attempt to appear like I understand and nod in response.

As our conversation continued, I heard the chair next to me scrape against the floor. I noticed a flowery fragrance. I glanced over to see May sitting next to me. I smiled at her, and in return she beamed back at me.

“How are you doing May?” I asked.

“Wonderful!”

May always seemed content, no matter what went on around her. She simply smiled, sipped her coffee, and waved to anyone in her near proximity. She did not speak much yet brought joy to others through her smile.

The lady sitting across from me was no longer coughing, and so I also asked her how she was doing.

“Quite well, now what is your name” she responded.

“I’m Quinn, what is your name?” I asked

To that she informed me that her name was Lucy. She excitedly began to tell me of a dream she had the previous night.

“I had a vision. God appeared to me and told me that I must spread the gospel. I think he wants me to move east, so I'll probably walk to Georgia. Then God told me to go to Australia. Now I know that I must walk to Australia. I will gather many fish to feed to the people, as I teach them about God. Once I do that, I know that God will show me the stairway to heaven.”

This was by far one of the most entertaining stories I was ever told at Glenwood assisted living. I hope lucy never attempts to walk to Australia.

I visited the assisted living facility until Grandmother Susan passed two years later. I never would have guessed that the old building with flickering lights, musty air, stained carpet, and floral couches could teach me so much. I guess it was not the building itself that taught me, but rather, the people within its walls. After my grandmother's passing, I reflected on all the beautiful souls I had the pleasure to meet. You see, all these ladies had some form of dementia. I believe that I had the incredible opportunity to see who they truly were. Who they were at their very core. Thanks to their dementia, they could not put up a front. They could not put on a show. They could only be completely themselves.

Karla struck me as a person who was always everyone’s cheerleader. She admired those around her. She found strength in both those in her proximity, as well as those who society idolized. She truly saw the best in everyone.

May was the kindest soul. She always looked at the world through rose tinted glasses. She found a way to be always happy. If I had to guess I would say that in her earlier days she was easy-going, and a positive light to all around her.

Lucy was quite a visionary. She must have had big dreams and ambitions as a younger woman.

My grandmother Susan. Let me tell you, my grandmother is the most intelligent woman I have ever met. In her earlier days she was awfully philosophical, and constantly aimed to change the world. As she got old and lost more and more of herself, the part that still shone was this philosophically caring part of her. Even as she spent her days sitting in a recliner, watching Luke Coombs music videos, she still found a way to discuss inequities and always assured me that she was doing all in her power to correct them.

The year of my grandmothers passing I attended a New Year's Eve party. I found myself in the living room of an acquaintance's house. The house was brimming with teenagers. New year's is an interesting time. People tend to take stock of their lives. Well, that night, as I saw many of my peers taking stock of their lives, I realized something. They all chose to recount how terrible a year it had been. As I spoke to one of my friends she said

“2022 really sucked. School sucks. Work sucks. I just got hurt by boys again and again. But you know what, here’s to 2023, another year full of the same crap!”

I was quite concerned to find many friends recounting similar experiences. Everyone seemed convinced that life just sucked. This caused me to contemplate about my friends in the hospice center. I thought of how May smiled, even though she suffered from Alzheimer's disease and arthritis. Lucy was optimistic despite her dementia and advanced scoliosis. Surely, they were worse off than my friends, so how could they be so much happier? As I looked back on my year, I realized that I was happy. I saw growth throughout 2022. I saw new places. I met new people. I began to see the benefit of serving others. I began to have an idea of the path the rest of my life would take. Maybe spending time at the assisted living center showed me how to choose happiness.

I had a realization. Perspective. That’s what it all came down to. Perspective is so much more than how you choose to see events. Yes, that’s where it starts. Your perspective is formed by how you choose to react to events and see the world. However, what perspective really is, is our wiring. How our brain automatically reacts to outside stimuli to create emotions. It is truly built by us. It is the most integral part of our personality. It is the part of us that sticks around the longest. When we get to the point that we can't remember our name, and we need help dressing ourselves, the one part of us that we retain is our innermost perspective.

So, on this New Year's Eve, I made a new year's resolution that I hope to keep forever. I want to strive to build an overwhelmingly positive perspective. When life happens, I want my neurons to fire in sequences that bring me joy. I want to be like May, Lucy, Karla, and my dear grandmother Susan. I want to see the good side of the world. I want to live with hope. I want to be happy now, despite the negative mindset of my peers. I do not want to wait until I am 92, diagnosed with dementia, living in Glenwood assisted living, to realize that I am allowed to be happy. In fact, if I allow myself to be happy now, I am certain that by the time I am 92, my perspective will be so strongly programmed to feel joy, that I will be the happiest grandma in the nursing home.

Control your perspective.

Program yourself to feel joy.

Strive to help others do the same.