Downright smug in childhood with my nearly bionic ability to read fine print on tiny objects, I considered my vision impervious to decline. I regularly congratulated myself for being the only person in my family without corrective lenses. My unearned superiority was shameless.
Those were the days. And now I am eating humble pie as I try to make out fuzzy sentences in the church bulletin. And what cruel joke is the phone book? My arms are no longer of sufficient length to grasp the hymnal as I try to discern lyrics. My long-spectacled husband occasionally feigns helpfulness, moving back the hymnal a full yardstick-length so I can see more clearly. His helpfulness usually paves the way for his being whacked squarely by said hymnal. I know I should consider my nonviolent beliefs, but his mischievous smirk causes an unfortunate impulsivity to rise up behind my straining eyes. I need to work on that.
My Dad found a good deal. Now there are 99 cent reading glasses scattered strategically throughout my house. I’ve got a pair in every room so I can circumvent wearing a telltale ‘middle-aged necklace.” My family finds amusement watching me run for a pair when I am trying to cook, work on the computer, or read. My daughter, a glasses-wearer since age 3, cannot abide the way my glasses hang precariously on the distal edge of my nose as I peer at her above them. Just like Grandpa Stroehmann. She does not understand that she becomes a swirl of nausea when I try to see her through the lens.
So I’ve experienced a little loss. Something I once had, failed to truly appreciate, and now it is gone. We humans are renowned for our ability to take things for granted.
The loss of near vision is nothing in comparison to the loss of a job, a home, or a loved one. So I’m trying my best to start recognizing blessings. It’s too late to value fine print, but there are lots of more important things to appreciate. And I can see them pretty clearly with my 99 cent glasses.
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