Counting Down to 70: Day 2, Awareness

Lately, I’ve been wandering around the house looking for my prescription reading glasses. I have two pairs, the red ones still yet to be found. Until 2020, I had worn eyeglasses, or contacts, for 50-some years to correct my nearsightedness. That year, the first year of the Covid pandemic, I had cataract surgery in both eyes. The clarity, sharpness, and colors of nature, as well as being able to see words, things, and views far away that I could suddenly see after each surgery was delightfully amazing. The downside was I could no longer see the finer things like tiny letters up close. I can live with that.  

Blurriness began in third grade for me. I thought it was normal to see wiggling letters on the blackboard. In fifth grade, the annual school eye exam showed I wasn’t seeing normally, so off to Daddy’s eye doctor Daddy took me. Dr. Green was his name. A nice old man with white hair, smelling crisp and sharp like his white medical top. His examination room was interestingly odd with those black gizmos and so very many lenses, and that scent of cleanliness, as in that proverb “cleanliness is next to godliness.” Daddy sat nearby, patient, quiet, and still, while Dr. Green examined my eyes in the dark room. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t nervous or scared because Daddy was there to let me know I was safe. 

Daddy always had my back. Look at the picture above. See those legs peeking out from behind the rock on which I was posed for a picture. The legs belonged to Daddy. That’s a wonderful gift to give a child, unconditional love.