Tag Archives: eye sight

Blurred eye’s view

Yesterday when Rory and I began our afternoon walk, the sun was shining bright and warmed the air. Ten minutes later, the sky was dark and threatening, and I was freezing.

Ah, spring.

The biggest problem this presented was in my choice of prescription sunglasses. Once the clouds gathered, it was really too dark to wear them. But if I took them off, I would be blind — literally — depending only on my trusty eighteen-pound guide dog to get us back home.

So I did…just to see what it would be like.

The city was definitely blurry. The colors more muted, too. And while I might have expected the sounds to be louder, instead I felt more isolated. But when people passed, I didn’t have to worry if they were making eye contact with me.

It is New York City, after all.

To give you an idea of what I saw, here is a representative view of a tulip garden I passed.

blurry tulips in jail

I can see clearly now

Central Park is green.

No more pastel buds of spring, no more varying shades of color — just a solid canopy of green.

 

As I was walking Rory Dog this morning — and gazing upward at all those green leaves — I was reminded of the day I got my very first pair of glasses.

I was in the fourth grade.  My teacher Ms. Laws had noticed I was squinting at the chalkboard, and ratted me out to my mom.  When the optometrist did the eye exam, it turned out —

I was pretty blind.  Who knew?

I wasn’t very excited about getting glasses; I was the first in my class and would be teased for months.  But I still remember wearing my new glasses on the ride home from the eye doctor, and staring in wonder up at the trees.

“You can see individual leaves?