I've been wearing an old pair, badly scraped up and missing a nose piece, but mostly leaving them off around the house. I was more uncomfortable with them on than not. So just now, when I found my lost glasses, in a little knitting basket on the living room floor near the fireplace, it was as if I hadn't eaten or drunk in two weeks and some kind soul gave me a sip of water and said "there there."
The duality of feeling hugely blessed and fortunate, yet being surprised at how big a thing this recovery was struck me. Then I realized why it was such a big deal. My mom had macular degeneration. And you know, I thought that I had a great deal of empathy for her in that. I thought I understood what she was going through, but I wasn't even close to really getting it. And now, as I slide my found glasses onto my face my heart leaps. I am liberated and comforted and whole again. I realize that for my mom it was all struggle and loss with her vision. She had her moments, one I witnessed as she twisted and turned her head to see the face of a grown grandson come to visit. She searched his face, moving her head around to try to get him into that limited view and when she did she was transformed. It was a little victory for her and a huge enhancement of her rare visit with him. She had seen and recognized his blue eyes.
She saw a flicker of eye and was overjoyed. I get to fill myself up with visual beauty every day, and I take it so for granted. I think that I don't, but this contrast of being without clear vision and now with it again, says otherwise.