Car now placed in park, I reached up to touch the top of my head. Yep, glasses still there. Good. I stepped out onto the pavement and held my wrist up to check the time. Eight minutes early. Okay, I sighed. “Too early to pick up the pizza, so I may as well get it over with.”
Instead of sidling into DiFranco’s to wait for my pizza, I turned left and headed up the street. The sun, now shining in the sky, seemed to suggest that while her intensity wouldn’t be up to the task of melting all the snow today, this would be the sun’s work over the next several days. A work in progress. Which is good.
Arriving at my destination, I pushed open the beautiful glass door. With a jingle of a bell gently greeting me, I took a few steps across a yellow carpet. Then, from behind a wooden table a woman said, “Hello! May I help you?”
“Um yes,” I stammered. “I need to, uh, schedule my annual eye check-up, or … exam?” This whole eyes-going-bad thing has been rough on me, I’ll admit. My whole life, my eyes have been amazing, bionic almost. Now blurriness.
“Okay, sure,” answered the woman. “Gosh, last time I saw you, you had just been in the hospital with the flu.” Wow, I thought. I only met this woman twice- once for my first eye exam, and then again to pick up my first set of reading glasses. That was last February! How could she remember such detail? I expressed my amazement at her comment. A bionic memory.
Leaving the optical center that day, I realized– perhaps not for the first time– I am probably making my need-for-glasses mean more than it really does. Perhaps it just signifies that, well, I am a work in progress. As are we all, right?