I don’t really need my glasses around the house. Not when I’m at the computer or reading or puttering. I only need them for my distance vision. So I didn’t have them on when I left for class at 4. By the time I realized I had forgotten them, it was too late to turn back. Welcome to a whole new world.
It was odd, asking a question of a blob on a television screen. It’s always odd doing the teleconferencing thing–but not being able to see makes it even more unusual. Navigating rush hour traffic on two of North Lincoln’s busiest streets was also interesting. I could feel the tiny muscles in my eyes straining to focus.
The library was an adventure. I couldn’t scan the stacks like I usually do–or my head would start spinning with blurry blocks of text. Instead, I had to kneel so that my head was level with whatever shelf I was looking at–so that my eyes could focus on the spines of the books directly in front of me.
I dropped by my parent’s house to ask my brother John about his day at the College of Business Administration’s “Big Red Welcome.” I asked him, teasing, if they had convinced him to join the Business College. He replied, quite seriously, that he thinks they have. I’m excited for him–I think he’ll do great in business. He’s smart, he’s a people person, he’s a go-getter. It’s just that he’s really growing up. Tomorrow he’ll vote in his first ever election–helping to make a decision that’ll shape the destiny of our nation.
I sat down for some pumpkin pie (made by my brother Daniel and his girlfriend Debbie) and my sister Grace began a lament about her civics class. The teacher has switched her teaching style and Grace prefers the old one–in fact, she’s pretty much sure that the old way is the only way she (Grace) can learn. I listened and thought, “External locus of control.” Then I thought, “You’re a nerd.” Then I realized that Gracie is growing up. She’s in high school now–the place where grades start counting. She’s learning our governmental system. She’s learning how to learn on her own (somewhat unwillingly, but oh well.)
The phone rang and we ignored it. The phone wasn’t in its holster anyway. But Joshua bounded up the stairs with the phone to announce a call for Timothy. It was the army recruiter. Tim jumped up and paced towards the school room (soon the piano room)–and then changed his mind and went the opposite direction, into his bedroom. He’s pretty serious about this thing. He’s researched his options. He’s looked into schools. He’s gone over costs and benefits. He’s considered the risks of war. He’s looked into genetic engineering in the military. He’s on the cusp of making his decision. If he decides to join the Army Reserves, he’ll be heading to boot camp next summer.
It seems like just yesterday, they were this:
and now–he’s talking of joining the military.
I take off my glasses for just a day and the world swirls by, leaving me with a foreign landscape. What happened to yesterday? Where’d it go?
I don’t know–and I can’t waste time trying to figure it out–I’d only end up losing today.
