"Mrs. White, don't you mean page 67?"
I looked at the text more closely. With a nonchalance I didn't feel, I said, "Oh, yes. Thank you." I had written 87 on the board and it was happening far too often. My vision was changing and not for the better. I had never worn glasses and despite my creeping age was in denial until I had to admit that reading was becoming difficult and that even the relatively large type in text books sometimes wasn't clear. I had ignored the blurry pages that showed up especially when I was tired. The
the optometrist gave me a prescription for reading glasses that was a very mild adjustment. I had those glasses for quite a while, considering the variety of adventures my glasses. The first pair disappeared and although I searched everywhere, I couldn't find them. In the end, I replaced them with a set from the drug store. They were so good that when those glasses went astray, I got more. The first set did turn up. They had fallen from my head into the laundry hamper when I took off a sweater to be washed but it was much later. My joy in doing laundry is a topic for another day.
Since then I have owned all manner of reading glasses, in various colours and styles. A few pair have even featured lights in the arms for night reading. Not the most practical of ideas. A times, the glasses have had a holiday- at a school where I substitute, at a friend's house, fallen between the couch cushions. The day is approaching when I will need the dreaded bifocals. I better start saving to pay for them and practicing better glasses "awareness."
I've been married a long time and often write about everyday events.