Lenses

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