Chasing Clarity

Her brother had urged her to order four pairs of us, and though she was hesitant, she eventually succumbed to his advice. I, one of those pairs, knew exactly how this would unfold. It was a familiar story, one that had played out countless times before. As we were pulled out of the box, I whispered to my sibling glasses, promising to reunite with them in the next lifetime.

One by one, she reached for us, and I was the first to be chosen. It was evident that she wasn't accustomed to having me in her life. This was a common occurrence with everyone's first pair of readers. She would place me on her nightstand, where I would patiently wait for her to wake up and reach for me. Sometimes, she would bring me to the kitchen table, savoring her morning coffee as I rested beside her. But as the day progressed, I would find myself forgotten in random places at work, in her car, or wherever her busy life took her. And without fail, I could hear her frantic exclamations, "Where the fuck are my glasses?"

As the days turned into weeks, I began to realize that being a pair of reading glasses was no simple task. I was constantly misplaced, left behind, and easily forgotten. It was as if I was invisible, despite my purpose being to help her see the world with clarity. Yet, I couldn't entirely blame her; after all, she had ordered multiple pairs of us, a small army of glasses to keep track of.

In the midst of the chaos, I often found myself yearning for the company of my sibling glasses. We had formed a bond, knowing that our fate was to be scattered and separated. We had made a solemn pact to reunite in the next lifetime, whenever and wherever that may be. But for now, I had to navigate this world on my own, making the best of my situation.

I patiently waited, filled with anticipation, as she rummaged through drawers and scoured every corner in search of her missing glasses. It became a daily routine, her desperate cries of frustration echoing through the house. And yet, despite the turmoil, I couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose. I was there to assist her, to bring clarity to her vision. Even if she often forgot about me, deep down, I knew she valued my presence.

Sometimes, I found myself in the most peculiar places. Sometimes in her panic I was already on top of her head. Sometimes I was tucked into her shirt around her chest. Sometimes she’d leave me in her bathrobe pocket. The side of the bathtub was not uncommon either. This woman took more bubble baths than anyone I’d seen before. I had seen it all. It seemed that I possessed a peculiar talent for getting left behind in the most unexpected spots. But amidst the chaos and confusion, I remained steadfast in my purpose. I was determined to help her see the world in a clearer light.

So I waited, knowing that eventually, she would find me. And when that day came, she would put me on, and the world would come into focus once again. Until then, I embraced my role as the elusive, misplaced pair of reading glasses, always ready to lend a helping hand, or rather, a lens, whenever she needed me.