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  • Writer's picturemaggiehsmith07

Like Stevie Wonder

Today Andrea and I went to the eye doctor. I’m fine, really. One day, I went to bed being able to read the back of over the counter packs of medicine. Then, I turned 45 and suddenly could not read the back of over the counter medicine packets. I’ve opted to assume that the recommended dose is 2 pills but who knows. The good news is that I’m almost sure that my liver can handle metabolizing 2 of whatever I toss at it.

The doc dilated my eyes and Andrea had declined to have dilation done. Which is just as well so we could get home. We were almost home when I said, “I don’t understand why she would dilate my eyes and not look in them.”

“Wait. What? She didn’t look in your eyes?! Were you supposed to stick around?” Andrea asks.

“Oh. Hm.”

The world is mercilessly bright to my widened pupils and sun glinting off the snow. “Put these on.” Andrea says, thrusting sunglasses at me.

I comply and ask, “How do I look?” “Like Stevie Wonder.” Andrea replies without missing a beat.

My cell phone rings, “Margaret. Are you still in the mall?” “Ah. Am I supposed to?” I ask, laughing, “Because that’s what Andrea told me.”


“I can come back?” I offer, looking at Andrea who’s shaking her head at me.

I get a stay until January. I cannot believe I have to do this shit again. The good news is that my failed inability to see the fine print on pill bottles really isn’t a big deal. The doctor tells me my distance vision is a little off but almost imperceptibly.

Andrea’s blue eyes are a mess. She’s been wearing glasses since second grade. Her prescription has changed a bit this go ‘round. At the rate she’s going, she’ll be Stevie Wonder. I imagine her with one of our pets as a seeing eye pet. This is a fantasy that ends abruptly as I imagine Georgie pulling her into traffic.

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