Bouffant Blonde

  Fear rises up in my chest and I scream for my youngest to “Get back!” She has already done so. Bless her heart! She is terrified of just about anything.   I look and don’t see anything. Typically her jumping back indicates a snake. I am terrified of snakes. We are in the front yard and I don’t have my gun. Even if I could see something, I couldn’t shoot it.   I yell for the older three dogs to come and we all head toward the back door. My youngest “spots” something and jumps again. I scream and two of the older dogs come running. I shine a light and see nothing out of the ordinary. My oldest dog, my hunter, finally arrives and inside we all go.   A tear rolls down my cheek. I once again am reminded that my vision is dimming. I have tried to ignore the signs. I love to pretend everything is okay or, at least, will be okay. But this will never be okay.   I shake off the pity party, take a deep breath, and get to work. There’s always so much to do...

  I am not yet legally blind. I struggle to see. I spend my days filled with gratitude and dismay. It’s like two sides of a coin I never wanted.   Did I mention that I am an artist? I paint furniture. Or I did. Now even solid pieces are filled with runs and drips. It’s a contrast thing. I can’t see the paint that’s causing trouble. It all looks the same to me.   And forget about details. The days of painting the alphabet on children’s furniture or painting small polka dots and squares and flowers are all gone. It’s just a mess when I try. There is before and there is after. I am living in the after.   It’s a perfect opportunity for laughter. I thought I saw a skank on my kitchen counter the other day. My heart stopped for a moment. Now, I’ve never seen one of those in my house but sometimes my vision “sees” things. On closer inspection, it was the coffee pot cord peeking out from under the panini machine. Up close, it’s not even remotely the same. ...