Slice of Life 2018 Day 9: Thinking Through My Fingers

A popular quote from Isaac Asimov

To me, writing IS thinking. I am amazed when I write about something and later realize that my thoughts have been altered in the act of what writer and professor Isaac Asimov once called, “thinking through my fingers.”  

The 100-Word Story I posted yesterday was based on a familiar memory from my childhood. My defiance was often brought up by members of my family at the dinner table with gentle teasing. It is a story that I have shared with my own children as a cautionary tale.

Although I have thought about this story many times, it wasn’t until I was writing about the nail polish incident that I considered my mom. At the time I remember feeling so angry when I was told that I could not paint my nails. I did not understand why my mom told me no, especially when I had painted my nails before without an issue. As the youngest kid in my family, I felt like I was forever being told that I couldn’t do something: I was too little, there wasn’t enough time, it wasn’t my turn, I needed to practice more patience. As I think back, my mom would have been at work for most or at least part of that day, she would have encouraged us to do homework and practice instruments (no easy feat), she would have prepared a meal for us, and she would have cleaned up after dinner. When I asked about polishing my nails that night, she would have probably been in the middle of getting everything ready for the babysitter. I am sure that she was exhausted before the babysitter even arrived. As a parent now, I completely understand why she told me “no” to polishing my nails. I can just imagine when my mom returned home from her meeting, noticed that I wasn’t sleeping as she expected, and then, to her horror, when she realized I had, indeed, polished my nails, leaving traces of bright polish everywhere. I am sure that scrubbing nail polish off of the carpeting and bathroom counter was the very last thing that she wanted to do that night.

Would I considered my mom’s perspective if I had not taken the time to write about it?

I am reminded that it would be wise to apologize to my mom for the nail polish incident the next time I see her. It’s over thirty years later, but I am positive that she would appreciate that I finally considered her perspective.

This is one of the many reasons I write - to help me uncover new perspectives. Here is a Haiku I wrote yesterday in reflection:

Thinking through fingers

Of childhood events cause me

To pause...wonder...change.

What perspectives have you considered when you have participated in “thinking with your fingers?”