I write about my eyes today. They have started to fail. This isn’t news, really–I’ve been noticing for the past two years. Possibly longer. Thought I could restore 20/20 with good ol’ vitamin-rich diet and regular dose of Lutein. Nope.
I’m nowhere near blindness. I can see things clearly but I’m no longer the eagle eye who doesn’t have to squint at pill bottles or at street names blocks ahead. I can no longer read in dim spaces. But it’s this kind of abuse that most likely caused this strain in my early thirties, right? Along with the screen addiction of our time. My terrible sleeping habits. Now, I have to take a break every couple of pages or so. I’m now someone who whips out reading glasses for restaurant menus and instructional manuals. There is a grownup feel to the flourish. “Wait, let me get my glasses.”
I write about my eyes today. They have started to fail but do they have to get worse? I try to limit my screen time and hit at least seven hours of sleep at night. But I will cherish their capacity now. Because one day, I will wake up to a blurry world of loud noises and faint words. Would be nice to be the bespectacled granny who shows no signs of slowing down, smiling at the cloudy world as she follows the scent of new adventures.