in first grade i sat so close to the blackboard that i was practically cheek-to-cheek with it. i could barely see the words even when squinting. my teacher mrs moore (who i remember most for her smiley faces with 'buns' of hair to match her real-life bun!) told me while tracing my christmas silhouette that i needed to go to the eye doctor. ahhhh doctors. i've always been a bit weary of them.
my parents always say that by my second visit to dr chandler i had memorised the eye chart in hopes of going home without glasses. i maintain they all told me my eyesight wouldn't get any worse if i wore the 'special' blue glasses. how did i fall for that?
who with glasses doesn't have serial fantasies about waking up to see the alarm clock as more than just a few blinking lights...? i've had my fair share of 20/20 daydreams but since starting the search for a new pair of specs, i've realised i also hold onto very vivid memories of not quite being able to see the whole picture. memories that i wouldn't dare trade. on many a friday evening in my youth, the five of us piled into my dad's pick-up truck and drove to my grandmother's house for the weekend. i would usually take my glasses off and fall asleep, my head rested on my dad's shoulder. waking up to look through the windshield at the street lights and passing billboards, so blurry without my second set of eyes, only to fall right back asleep until we pulled in the driveway. i always thought the lights looked like twinkling snowballs, and if i tilted my head they moved like pinwheels, growing larger and smaller as we drove onward. what i wouldn't give for one more of those friday nites.