Was blind but now I see

Lately, there are things that make me weep for joy. They are shallow, rather selfish things and, for that, I must admit that I feel ashamed. I used to weep for joys that meant something profound, like holding my babies for the first time, reuniting with old friends, and running my first marathon. I have wept in pain, too; I’ve said goodbye when I knew it wasn’t “au revoir” and those tears never dry up.

But, these tears are different. These tears are for really dumb things that make me incredibly happy. The earliest occurrence was when I had my house cleaned for the first time by a cleaning service. Don’t laugh! I’m serious! I came home and every room was clean. I wept. I’m so easily distracted that I can only ever clean half a room before I start doing the laundry that I find, finishing the crossword beside my bed, or trying to locate the rest of the pieces of the half-finished puzzle under the bed. Sometimes, when I’m ON, I can get a whole floor done but, by the time I get back up there after doing the other floor, it’s a mess again.

You’ll think I’m really losing it now, because the next time I remember weeping for joy was when we hired a lawn maintenance company to clear up the leaves in the fall. It’s true. A job that used to take me hours and hours to do and would necessitate several pain-killers by evening, took two young guys with big old leaf blowers a mere hour to complete. Not only that, but they also neatly stacked up all the little branches they found. Yes, I wept tears of joy (the lawn was so darned clean you could’ve eaten on it) and relief (I was spared from a physically exhausting task).

Yesterday, I wept again. This time, it was when I received my new glasses. They are light and airy, frameless Vera Wang’s. My daughter told me that they make me look like a schoolteacher but, then catching my crestfallen face, told me that was a compliment. I didn’t weep because the glasses are pretty, although they are. I didn’t weep because my daughter hurt my feelings, although she did. No, I wept because I could see!

Eyesight is funny when you lose it gradually, because your brain will compensate for a long time. It can be retrained too; you meet people who wear a reading contact lens in one eye and a distance lens in the other. In my case, I’ve worn reading glasses since I was 17 years old to correct a lazy eye. Well that little couch potato of an eye didn’t do much for the past 30 years but its sister on the other side of my face has had to do a lot of overtime to compensate and now she’s gettin’ old and tired too. Bifocals, said the ophthalmologist, when I finally capitulated and went in for an exam.

Bifocals?! Old people wear bifocals, not young people, I thought to myself crossly. The doctor, who was old enough to have earned several degrees and own a practice, but who was still probably a good ten years younger than me, saw the look on my face. Don’t worry, he said, they’re gradual lenses, so no-one will notice. Hmph! I still have to go to bed every night knowing I’m OLD.

I trudged out to the waiting room and chose a pair of glasses from the shop. Quite frankly, I had to just cross my fingers on the choice because my pupils had been dilated, so I could barely see. Plus, I was still reeling from the eye examination, at which an optician quickly slides lens after lens in front of your throbbing eyes, fake-patiently asking which one is better ... A or B ... A or B ... A or B? What is the last line that you can read? Plus, I was reviewing a lifetime of clumsiness and missed tee-shots, wondering how much of it was related to my lack of depth perception, after failing 15 of the 16 tests for that ability!

Wear them as much as you can to get used to them right away, was the advice I received when I picked up my little Vera Wang number. As the optician slid them on for a fitting, I nearly wept for joy. The relief of not straining and squinting to see was instant and enormous. I guess I underestimated how hard I was working all the time to focus. I didn’t take them off all afternoon or evening. In fact, I fell asleep on the couch wearing them and my husband had to remove them from my slobbering, snoring face.

My only complaint is how clearly I can see the wrinkles now...