I held the prescription bottle at a distance. Oh, so frustrating. I could see this just yesterday.
I'm losing my nearsightedness. Or maybe it's the lighting. Those blasted energy-saving light bulbs.
Admitting defeat, I ask for help.
"Baby, is that a 5?"
"Yes, Mama, that's a 5."
It happens so gradually. We see the distance, but we lose sight of what's near. The things close to us slip away. Slowly slipping. And it's hard to admit it. It's hard to acknowledge those glasses are needed.
We get so busy doing ... just doing.
What do we lose sight of?
The love of our life.
Our first love.
The tiny critter hopping down the path.
The seashell on the shore.
And the question we need a crystal clear answer to is this:
Do we want to see?
If we are weary of blindness, there comes a time to admit. Time to put on the glasses. Time to see.