Prescription Eyeglasses

Day 96: Prescription Eyeglasses

My eyesight is dimming. Quickly. The reading glasses I bought a few months ago have me squinting at the page. Without my progressive lenses firmly in place, the world is blur. Nine years ago, when I interviewed for my job at the Arb & Gardens, I didn't need glasses at all.

Growing old is taking me by surprise. Fifty! I am typing, looking at the pronounced blue veins on the backs of my hands, my right index finger thick with years of mouse-clicking, the skin of my knuckles wrinkled and exaggerated, a liver spot on my forearm. 

I am younger today than I ever will be, and older than I ever have been. When I look in the mirror, I try to focus on the former, and appreciate what I see. But it's hard. How much harder it is now to open a jar. To sleep through the night. To recollect a name. There is that pain in my thumb joint, and stiffness in my hips after too much sitting. My knees pop. 

I remember how it felt to be sharp, and supple, and fast, and strong, and wide awake. And yet, I am only fifty. Aren't I all those things still?

These can be donated at LensCrafters, where the will go to needy people around the world. Perhaps few people will find mine useful. The left lens is clear glass for my blind eye.