“Where Are My Glasses!”

“I really need to get my eyes checked,” I said out loud to myself, but my husband was in earshot.

Almost to himself but within earshot, he said, “You’ve been saying that for years.”

I hate to admit, but he’s right. The truth is, it all started on my 40th birthday. I swear, on that day when I toasted to myself, and felt like I owned the world (you know how fabulous at 40 goes), along with the candle blowing cake moment came the subtle pivot into words blurring as I opened my beloved books. Squinting helped for a while, but in order to read without holding the book three feet away, I reluctantly accepted a love/hate relationship with reader glasses.

Since then, I either have 10 pair of glasses in my purse or can’t find any. I don’t spend much money on my readers because I either end up sitting on them, losing them, or find them in the suitcase I used last year.

My grandchildren can tell you, when I say to the universe, “Where are my glasses?” it’s an all-consuming hands-on-deck effort to find the illusive spectacles so that I can bring into focus the world of whatever is literally in my arms reach. Admiring the freestyle coloring, helping to repair the sparky beaded necklace, or figuring out how to replace the battery in the remote control monster truck can only be done with my glasses.

In a perfect world, I’d have 100 pair of 12 dollar reading glasses instilled with a priceless sixth sense so that each pair had an intuitive sense of my arm’s reach any time, anyplace. The worst thing about reading glasses is when you have no idea where they are. I admire those that have their readers tucked predictably in the clasping leather-like case in the designated pocket of their purse. And then there are the Benjamin Franklin type spectacles that fold inward, fit in a 2-inch pouch and rests unnoticed in the breast pocket of the button down shirt. People such as these always know how to bring focus into their lives. They probably have spare glasses by the morning breakfast table prepared to read the paper, have another pair in the car so that they can find the right grocery list, and have another pair somewhere close so that a text on their phone can be responded to in a legible way. Many times, after I reply to my child’s text with muddled gibberish, I’ll squint extra hard only to read their response, “Mom, you need to find your glasses.”

Chances are, if my glasses aren’t resting on the top of my head I have no idea where they are. Craziest is, I can have a pair on my head and grumble at the same time because I “don’t know where my glasses are.” Even worse, I’ve been known to have two pair of glasses on my head and still search the abyss of my purse looking for those %#%# glasses. As an independent, self-sufficient, quite season-aged women, becoming victim to glasses is frustrating. Being bound to magnifying lenses to see the world up close clearly is nothing short of annoying. I feel like my mom whose glasses always fit a bit crooked because she was constantly losing them to life.

My fear is I will need prescription glasses that cost a lot more than my dollar store collection of cheapies. The thought of losing them makes me shiver. Let’s just say I don’t have much confidence in my ability to hold on to a really special pair of glasses unless they make a permanent home on the bridge of my nose. And that brings me back to the reluctance and denial I had at 40.

The truth is, I really do need to get my eyes checked.