Perception

• Xavier Dooley, Grade 7, St Kevin's College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

Nestled in between the beautiful terraced homes that make up the picturesque English town of Dover, is the Eden Hill Medical Centre. It was a warm and inviting Saturday morning; robins and linnets brought music to everybody as they flew around the sturdy English oak trees that are always in abundance around the shimmering blue port. Yet, there was more to celebrate than the incredible sights. As my immediate family huddled at the door of the maternity room, waiting to catch a glimpse of the newborn child, my mother cradled me in her arms. She loved everything about me; my pink cheeks, my round chestnut eyes and the fine, soft black hair beginning to sprout, but I guess all mothers do. Unbeknown to her at the time, I lacked the ganglion cells necessary to invert the image my retina views. When my sight eventually permitted me to, I saw my mother differently to how you see her. To you, I saw her up-side down, but I believe that I saw her perfectly. My name is David Manchester, and I perceive the world differently to you.
My parents suspected nothing until one fateful day. My mother cradled me in her arms and rocked me slowly from side to side. She stared lovingly in to my inquisitive eyes and sung a lullaby so sweet, the birds stopped their chorus to listen to the sound of an angel. My mother lay me delicately down in my pristine white cot, but due to my inverted sight, as she placed me down it felt as if she was throwing me upwards. In my attempt to wriggle free of my mother's tender hold, I struck my left eye on the painted wooden barrier. The sclera in my eye became a dark crimson colour and transparent, salty tears were soon streaming down my face, accompanied by a piercing wail. My mother's face turned the lightest shade of white I had ever seen.
Without hesitation, she scooped me up and sprinted down the cobble stairs that lead to our house. Leaping in to her cream Ford Fiesta, she raced down the quiet tree-lined streets towards Eden Hill Medical Centre. Bursting through the doors of the clinic, my mother begged the doctors to help me. She was hysterical; tears carved rivers down her cheeks and her sobs were so violent, her body shook with every episode. Obviously suffering, the doctor ordered a digital retina scan - partially for my benefit, but mostly to help calm my mother down. With my mother lovingly stroking my face, she left me in the doctor's care. Scrutinising the scans, an ophthalmologist soon noticed my inverted sight.
I have lived twelve years with inverted vision, and I am three hours away from an operation to 'fix' my sight, but many questions remain. Gravity, direction, longitude or latitude? What if we were meant to view the world as I currently see it? We will never know what's right until we question things.