Rachael sat on my glasses.
My mom would turn red at the curses that mentally came out of me at having crooked lenses and arm pieces that snagged my hair.
I went to BlogHer. I wore them every day. I ate at a Atlanta meet-up.
I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. They were crooked and they were cloudy.
I felt bad considering I’d just gotten these glasses, my first pair, a few months ago.
The appointment took hours. I had the full eye exam, complete with whining kids and snapping parents. Pete helped me pick a pair of frames.
He had to help me pick a pair.
First, I couldn’t see at all with the glasses with no leses.
Second, the eye doctor gave me news I had to digest.
My vision was improving.
The left eye that didn’t move had started to move. That was HUGE news.
It was what they had said would happen.
My vision was slowly healing with the exercises and training.
It was working.
I got my new glasses. With their new lenses.
And new prescriptions.
The hope inside me that I’ll be back in a few months.
That I’ll need a new pair of glasses then.