Caloy Conde

About two years ago, I bought my first reading glasses. I had these made after I noticed that printed words, which I devour every day as a matter of livelihood and obsession, were beginning to get blurred.

But somehow, I managed to not use the glasses regularly. It probably was a subconscious effort to, in a way, push back time. I was in a state of denial. For two whole years.

Then this month, the inevitable happened. Words were no longer fuzzy — I couldn’t read them at all!  For somebody who survives on words, a thing like this can be terrifying.

Before this, I kept wondering why my eyes were hurting and why they were watery a lot of times. Ayi, her seeming delight at my age-related affliction faintly visible on her lips, told me one evening that I needed to use reading glasses. Defeated, I bought a new pair.

This morning, I found myself tying a strap to my glasses so I could hang these around my neck and never, ever forget to wear them when I’m writing or reading. It felt like a yoke.

I give up.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 28th, 2007 at 10:15 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.