Perspectives This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   One night I got into a big debate with my mother. We were discussing the possible meanings of the end of the novel The Giver by Lois Lowry. My interpretation differed greatly from hers, and our battle raged for an hour and a half. It began at dinner in a restaurant, and we were still arguing when we got home.

I am extremely stubborn, and I got so fed up with my mother not giving in that I stormed out of the car and went into my backyard. It was a freezing fall night, but there was no snow on the ground. I lay down on my back and stared up at the sky. I felt like I could see to infinity.

It was a beautifully dark night. The stars looked like diamonds studded against black velvet. I ignored the cold and just gazed at the heavens, awed by the millions of tiny lights that winked at me from light years away. Each star seemed no bigger than the head of a pin, but so, so bright.

Those stars looked so tiny, but I felt even smaller. I knew that if I ever really stood next to one of them, I would be dwarfed a millionfold. The heat would kill me before the size was even relevant, of course, but I realized how perspectives work.

I wondered if there was some other girl, on some far-away planet, lying in her yard, staring at the stars like I was. Maybe she was thinking about the same things I was. Maybe she was wondering if there was anything else out there, anyone else. In that infinite number of stars, it's very arrogant to think that there couldn't be anyone else out there.

I thought about my debate with my mother. It seemed very unimportant compared to the mysteries of the universe. I felt content to scrutinize the sky. Then I noticed that I was lying on the frozen ground in a broomstick skirt and a thin sweater. While I was deep in thought, my legs had morphed into popsicles, and the rest of me was following fast.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my hands together. I didn't know how long I'd been out there, but my mother and sister must have thought I was crazy. Giving the cosmos a final glance, I got up and went inside. After I thawed out, I went to talk to my mom.

"You know, I was just thinking, and it doesn't really matter what the end of the book means. Everyone should just find their own meaning in it." Mom looked at me wonderingly. I just smiled and left her to her thoughts.

As I was leaving the room, I turned around.

"But you're still wrong." Mom threw a pillow at me. I laughed and went to my room. c


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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nottooperfect said...
Jan. 23, 2010 at 3:21 am
it was really nice! the end brought a smile on my face ;)
 
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