Understanding Our Perception

Our perception is unique to us. No two people will have the exact same interpretation of an event.

I was born the sixth of seven kids, and these are my impressions. 

Mom flits about the house putting dinner on the table, sorting laundry in the basement, and telling us to go wash our hands. I never see her sit down.

 I’m eight years old and we make our first major move from Nebraska to South Dakota.

Our house in South Dakota is grand. The main bathroom is huge. I lock the door and crawl out one of the windows and onto the roof to deflect my oldest sister’s yelling. 

Two years later, we move from South Dakota to Colorado. 

The house is out in the country with a rope swing in the barn loft. I climb the mow ladder, shimmy my buns onto the board of the swing, and sail across the hayloft. The stereo my brother hooks up plays Simon and Garfunkel’s songs. 

Two years later, Dad ends his life by suicide, and Mom moves us all back to where we started from in Nebraska.

These are my memories. 

But I was not the only one living those events. 

In 2020, one of the sisters sends out an email inviting all of the siblings to join a weekly family phone call. 

Six years later, I’m still dialing in. 

Over the years, I learned a few things. Mom sat down when she taught my youngest brother to read while the rest of us were in school. 

The move from Nebraska to South Dakota did not include my oldest brother. He stayed behind, lived with Grandpa and Grandma, and finished his senior year in high school. 

I got away from my oldest sister’s yelling by crawling out onto the roof. But she never got away from the burden of being the oldest sister.

While my older brother and I swing in the barn loft listening to music, our little brother sits inside the house wishing he could swing too. 

Why Bother?

Why bother understanding our perception? My impressions are not my siblings’ impressions. Nor are theirs mine. But sharing our perceptions with each other expands our relationships with each other.