[Critique Group 1] Marcia's December submission 507 words

[Marcia Wick]

You all get a break from my book - I haven't written much since trying to
buy a new computer - long story short, I returned it.

 

The Blessings of Blindness

 

I recall over-hearing a comment the ophthalmologist made to my parents after
he diagnosed me with a rare genetic eye disease. "She could be totally blind
by age 60," he said. I was only 10-years-old at the time. I told myself not
to worry - that I'd likely be dead before getting that old.

 

Now, I am 67, living proof that my eye doctor's prediction indeed did come
true. Trouble is, I'm not dead yet and probably won't be for decades. Mom
and Dad lived into their 90s. If my doctor or parents were alive today, I'd
tell them that blindness isn't that bad after all.

 

The blessings of blindness are many. Let me share some of the unexpected
advantages of not seeing what's in front of my nose.

 

When I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my teeth and combing
my hair, I can't see the emerging wrinkles and prevalence of grey hair. I
can convince myself that I still look as young as I feel.

 

 

I didn't see the disappointment in my daughter's eyes when she dented her
car - the first or the second time - but I did absorb her grateful hug when
she thanked me for buying her a new car.

 

I can't see the other driver flip my husband the finger when we cut him off
entering the highway, and I can't see the pedestrian hop out of the way when
he turns right on red. I can, however, feel the warm kiss my spouse rewards
me with when we arrive home safe and sound.

 

I can't see the grass dying after three years of worsening drought
conditions, nor can I see my guide dog's poop that I pick up off the lawn
three times a day every day, but I can feel the warmth and firmness as I bag
it, reassuring me that my old guide's health is still A-OK.

 

I can't see the scary scowl on the teenager's face when we collide in line
at the bank, but I can hear his kind apology when he realizes that I'm
blind, and I can feel the assurance of his elbow that guides me to the
counter ahead of him.

 

I can't see the images on television when the newscaster warns viewers "what
you are about to see is disturbing," and I can't see the blood and guts
spewing on the movie screen thanks to special effects magnifying the trauma.
However, I can lose myself in the imagery of well-crafted words listening to
an audio book or poem crafted by a fellow writer.

 

When I close my eyes at night, I don't have to re-live the look on my
father's face as he lay dying, but whenever I want, I fondly recall
relishing his smile when he was pleased with my report card, college
graduation, and birth of my children.

 

I can't see the headlines predicting climate change, mass shootings, famine,
earthquakes, and water shortages. Hopefully, I won't see the end of the
world coming. 

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