This morning's moon rise and the companionship of Venus and a sister star gave me so many reasons to appreciate my old and still healthy eyes. It's good to see!
We spent most of yesterday in Seattle; I had a late afternoon eye appointment; we hoped a local restaurant supply store would have a replacement hot plate for the one that is limping along; and then, an annual holiday gathering of friends was scheduled for early evening.
There were no options worth buying at the store. But the eye exam was the best sort of physical I could envision: "Your vision's been stable for awhile, still is." Said the white coated doctor. "We like to look for things like glaucoma, cataract and macular degeneration at this age. You have no signs of any of these! Great news," he added, and then asked, "Do you have any questions for me?" I did. "I'm wearing a pair of lenses prescribed to me probably twenty years ago. Will it harm anything if I just keep wearing them?" I really liked his answer,"If they work: don't give you head aches and you do well with them, don't change a thing."
I told him how the last pair of glasses I bought from his optical center had turned cloudy and "fractured." The optician explained that there was probably a small crack and the lens just went whacko (not her words) from any small exposure to heat or steam (like from cooking). "Technology doesn't always mean things get better," she was not offering to compensate for the crapware of current products and the issue wasn't worth more discussion.
So I will continue to wear my old glasses and pay even better attention to keeping them in good shape. A low-income budget functions nicely when old eyes are not in need of more maintenence than we can afford. And I'm grateful.
An evening of conversation, gathering for food and a circle of sharing both story and things we each no longer needed or wanted was fun. We age. We grow, we mend slowly in some cases and the laughter and queries we banter across the round makes for memories; traditions are made by showing up. These are friends who cared for us when I was diagnosed with MCS ten years ago. We watched the sunset over the Salish Sea from a home overlooking Ballard, and have to say the city is beautiful though oh so very stimulated and paced for those who are more used to the intensity.
Whew, by the time we boarded the late evening ferry we both exhaled a sigh of relief for the simple nature of our small golden wagon and the companionship of a shared kitchen, a warm bathroom and open skies with big weather to live with.
I took a walk after breakfast and mugs of hot tea. Hover over the images for a description, or musings.
Our car
A personal
Time capsule.
Tent cities
Within
The City
Shelters.
From the comfort
Of brick
And glass
Clean floors ...
We travel within the city
Our lives
A personal
Time capsule.
Sending prayers of common good for those in tents, in parking lots and comfortable heated houses leaving space for our Nature to be no accident.
How much can we share, even if it is uncomfortable? Read the link in the question, and think about it. I'd love to know how you feel.
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