Blind and Free

 

It’s not so bad not being able to see far, 

there are some perks, 

glasses can be shields to hide behind, 

from dust, UV and keeping awkward glances and blinking mostly to yourself,

It’s so easy to put them on, and Voilà! 

To see again! 

Being able to spot ruts and boulders on trailruns is kind of essential these days,

At the same time, taking a break from the plastic transparent rims can be wondrously freeing,

On a Sunday morning cruising around barefoot without my four eyes,

a thought may come across my mind like “Was that a spider on the ground?” 

not knowing for sure can be bliss… 

indulging in ignorance can be therapy for many anxious fifty-year old woman-types,

Anyways, I can do many things without my glasses, 

make espresso, feed cats, empty the dishwasher, read my book,

Maybe I can get by a whole day without them? 

I have a feeling the answer to this question is coming very soon,

The trouble is, there are other things I cannot do, 

like find my Phone, drive my car,  see really where I am going; 

that makes the prospect of not finding them feel a bit threatening,

So I am here, on the floor, on my hands and knees, brushing the tan carpet under my bed with my fingertips, discovering sandals, books, hairties, and hair, 

almost everything else lost,

but my glasses with transparent frames,

I transition from the carpet to the top of my bed,

I peel back sheets, a comforter, pillows and layers of tummy on an orange striped-sprawled out cat,

 

I look on the night stands, behind the cups of water and my partner’s keyboard, 

the books I most definitely will get around to reading, 

I just about give in to the idea of not worrying about driving anywhere,

or talking to anyone today,

which even sounds kind of nice,

 

But then, as I reach around my couched husband, 

to lay a kiss on his stubbly chin from above, 

him sipping his morning cappuccino, 

concentrating deeply to highlights from an MMA fight on his phone,

I glance down and I spot folded smartly,

into the neckline of his one-button undone polo shirt,

a familiar clear frame and plastic lenses,

I wonder,

was he waiting for this kiss, 

or having fun watching me on my hands and knees? 

His matter-a-fact, “Oh, looking for these?” suggests maybe both.