I have suddenly realized that all of my best “stories ” from my life center on me. I was the hero of my own tale. While that’s not really unusual, I never saw myself as that self absorbed. I have always put others first. Been sympathetic and empathetic.Yet, today I realized, I see things only from one point of view. As a writer I have tried to at least imagine things from opposing views from my own. I think of it as an exercise. Social media helps. Although I am often disappointed in things I see in others. Don’t get me wrong, I am far from perfect. However I hope to always see kindness and charity…. and I rarely do. Yet this morning I talked online with someone. She was a good friend in high school( admittedly almost thirty years ago now) …And although I remember her vividly, she doesn’t really remember me. Part of my ego was bruised at that. It got me thinking. Wondering at the variations of all my life stories…. when seen from another set of eyes. Would the things that seemed so darn important to me even have made it to the footnote? Point of view makes all the difference in what direction the stories take. Does it make a difference in who I am? Not sure. Perhaps that still requires thought.