Or, a lament for a well-spent youth.
Of all the parts of my body that are falling apart, my eyes worry me the most. I wear contacts all day because my glasses are so thick and heavy, they hurt my nose to wear them. I was warned at my last optometrists visit that I was going to have to get bifocals soon. Until then, I would need reading glasses if I was planning on doing anything up close while wearing my contacts.
Reading glasses. *sigh*
I’ve bought a few pairs and probably have enough for every room of the house, including my sewing area. They’re kinda cute, actually, but I keep them in drawers or my purse so nobody sees them unless I have to wear them. I even try to work on the computer without them if I have company over.
|Hillary Clinton – Secretary of State|
This morning, I was working at my computer, typing and referring to books and my ereader when I heard a commotion outside. I looked out the window and realized it was just the trash truck coming down the street. Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window; reading glasses slid down my nose, hair down but nice looking, holding a book in front of me, peering over the tops of my glasses.
I looked like every secretary and librarian over 30 I’d ever met.
Oh, I thought. So that’s why. Huh.
It was a jarring moment that reminded me that I will soon be 30. I know age is really just a number but this one seems to be lurking, ready to pounce, attacking me with the fact that my youth is now over and I’m an adult.
One would think the family and the house and everything else would have already reminded me of that but they didn’t. It took a small poke at my vanity to remind me I’m not getting any younger.
I’d better start saving for that trip to New York!