I got glasses when I was in second grade. I was very farsighted, which is apparently rare in young children and I got these plastic glasses that were pink on the top and faded to blue on the bottom. I loved them. In third grade I went back for my yearly checkup only to discover that now my left eye had become nearsighted as my right had stayed farsighted. They gave me plastic glasses that were blue on the top and faded to pink on the bottom...except they had bifocal lenses in them. An 8-year-old wearing bifocals. Awesome. I was self-conscious about the line running across my lenses, feeling my oddity like itchy wool. I only had bifocals for a year. My right eye eventually got with the program and became nearsighted and I've been in glasses or contacts ever since. Now my left eye is so nearsighted I have trouble distinguishing not only form and distance but also color—things blur together without lenses to pull it all into focus, to show me what is the what. Without lenses I have problems seeing my own hand in front of my face.
This is the effect of the literal lenses through which life is viewed; how much more important are the figurative ones. The ones that can see the whole mess and yet focus upon the beauty within it, the moments where life is sustained, love is actioned, hope a bulwark against all evidence to the contrary. I don't know what it all means, but those are the lenses that matter more and more as the intricacies of each day, each situation become overwhelmingly distinct. I need to see those edges.
