i began squinting to make out equations on the chalkboard in tenth grade; bought my first pair of contacts eight years later, thinking it might be nice to actually see the first graders i was teaching. and each time i carried a babe in my womb, my eyesight plunged further into that blurry pool of myopia.
so these days i'm good for a scope of about a half dozen inches from my face. beyond that, and i need prescription lenses to wrestle those loose shapes and colors into recognition.
i got to wondering about this, about what it might be like to never see the way bee's mouth curves at the edges when he's trying not to laugh. to never know elle has the littlest pair of freckles on her left cheek, binary stars on a pale curve of skin. to lose zee's tarantula lashes, or em's way of shuffling as he runs. would i ache with a sense of what i was missing?
clarity of sight is a tremendous thing. i yearn for every mother to be able to see her children, and even more, to watch them thrive.
so much to work out in this messy life, but i'm glad for so many chances to love.