Four Your Eyes Only

VOLUME ONE 2023

THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

There's a blur, I casually slide my right thumb across the screen of the iPhone while balancing it in my right hand - I silently remind myself to purchase a new phone cover. I have enacted this thumb gesture numerous of times in various settings - while devouring reheated pizza on the sofa scrolling through Instagram, talking with friends at crowded restaurants and sitting at the long stoplight on my morning commute. The one swipe usually does the trick, clears the screen of the blur to once again reveal my perfectly dimmed brightness setting. This time, the scene played out differently as the blur decided to stay a while longer and grew more intense as I looked down to check my email. I questioned the state of my privacy screen protector and then the cleanliness of my thumb. Had my hand cream lingered around a bit longer than expected instead of absorbing into my skin as per the instructions printed obscurely on the side of the tube. All of the scenarios were proven false and after a moment of utter confusion, I began to realize that the blur was coming from my eyes. I turned to my cuckoo clock as a reference point - everything I saw was covered in a haze. The miniature sized Bavarian couples were barely visible, their embrace created an ombré effect and they appeared as colored blobs against the Black Forest wood. I soon began to conclude that my years of 20/20 vision was slowly being siphon by time.

Uncontrollably blinking actually doesn’t fix the problem nor does rubbing your eyes as if you can wipe the blur away. I finally decided to make a doctor's appointment but first I had to narrow my options for the perfect pair of glasses. I was determined to maximize my $135 frame credit; which translated into professional shoppers term - I can easily choose a frame double or triple the credit and still perceive that I was granted a discount. I was leaning towards an oversized, square tortoise shell situation, Gucci or Celine obviously were my only choices. I researched eyewear like a seasoned historian, destined to discover my match. On the day of my appointment, I still had a couple of picks but only one would get the gig.

When I arrived to the doctor’s office, the tech asked for my details and we exchanged a dialogue of how my birth year couldn't be correct and I clearly made a mistake while filling out the new patient paperwork online. The flattery was received but the banter became exhausting after the 2nd confirmation that I was in fact born in 1976. My annoyance was quickly recovered as I begin to contemplate that sooner than later these situations will become a blurred distant memory, like my vision and no one will challenge my birth year, only confirm it as they scroll through my health records with little enthusiasm. I began to realize that my age was slowly nudging itself into my everyday existence and now I’m at the optometrist thinking about being forty-six while teetering on a mid- life crisis.

Once I snapped back to the present moment, I was instructed to take some visual tests - pushing the button when I saw the blur on the screen. Of course this was my area of expertise, identifying blurs where they shouldn't appear. I passed with flying colors. I was then escorted to another examine room and waited for the doctor. The room was simply decorated with vision-themed tchotchkes and an array of stock imagery on the walls. My doctor finally entered the room. I could feel her hesitation from the very beginning of our discussion. She glanced at my chart, looked at me and glanced down again. She repositioned herself on the tiny stool and begin to discuss why I was seeing blurs. My first thought, if she grabs the atomical eye model and speak to me in toddler terms I was walking out. I was saved from that playing out but she did begin to slow her speech as if she was checking every word to make sure they landed in the right space. I realized her struggle and interjected my acceptance of getting older and confirmed that the blurs are here because of my age. She nervously agreed and told me that this is going to happen to everybody as they age, even her!

After more test and me reading the last line on the eye chart, the conclusion was that my vision is in tact and I can continue to use my eyeglasses as an aid when I’m on the computer or doing tasks that are at an arm’s length, like reading or knitting. Once I revealed my knitting obsession, she asked if I had any pics of my work and if I was on TikTok. Her professional manner disintegrated into the stool and she childishly scooted towards me to take a look at the two or so images I had on my iPhone. She thought my knitting was cool and then suggested I create a TikTok page and become the @coolknitter, if the name was still available. I politely thanked her for the PR advice, and silently hoped that her Millennial laissez faire attitude was only reserved for social media moments. I walked out of the room - came to terms with my progression of age and picked the tortoise shell Celines.