my old glasses were stolen on a sunny Monday
right outside the window
so I got new ones when my son was still in the hospital
even paid extra for the non-scratch coating
the first day we brought him home
I assiduously placed them
on the window sill that our bed presses against
folded them neatly next to my alarm
set to wake me at three
I woke without effort
relieved that I could finally go check on him
to see that he was alright
to confirm that he was actually home with us
and when I reached for my new glasses
I fumbled a bit
they slid down the narrow gap
between the mahogany wall and the dark pine bed
I retrieved them in the darkness
glad to get them back
yet in the morning light
saddened
by the tiny collection of micro-scratches
precisely where my right eye looks through
too busy to go back to the store
or even the make the sarcastic phone call
about how glad I was that I’d paid the extra money
to make sure that the scratches wouldn’t rub out
I just lived with it
turned my head to look around the spot
as I measured milk, meds, and supplements
as I changed diapers and adjusted tubes
as I treated eye infection and checked placement
as my worried eyes looked into his deeper, calmer pools
as he taught me about love
my beloved
now he’s gone
and I’m still looking around this encumbrance
trying to see my way past the injury
the tiny scuff moves when I turn my head
passing as a hazy spot over every landscape
Posted in: grief
heavy. intense. and beautiful.
I know how it is, to suddenly, discover a reminder of our little guy. As I put some clothing in a drawer, I noticed any empty folder, designed to hold a legal document. It’s cover was labeled with the title, “Will”. I still miss him, too. xoxo Nana
As my old lit professor used to say, Just so.