I wrote 1600 words today…but none of it felt ready to share yet. So here is something I wrote around this time of year at least two years ago and just uncovered tonight.

I went for a walk tonight at dusk, which these days is 9 pm. I walked around Lake of the Isles, where the water has flowed over its edges and is covering benches, and trees, and sidewalks. It's lovely. People wade in it, and go fishing. I saw a murmultir (small brown rodent), right up where the bank would normally be. Ducks swimming in a puddle as if it were a lake all to themselves.

I took off my glasses part way home. This particular pair has really been subject to a beating, and they don't fit so well on my face. So I took them off. I've walked that route dozens of times. I have lived here for 9 years. I will really be a-okay, but the fact is I'm pretty blind.

So instead of seeing the way I'm used to, I saw the way I actually, well, see. The way I never really allow myself to see. The world was softer, closer. It felt unclear if I'm going to hit the branch next to me or not. I couldn't name my plant friends so well–fir, pine, oak–until I got very very close.

But the world felt more dimensional. Travel became more apparent–as I moved things became noticeably clearer.

It is my real vision. With my real eyes! I found myself clenching a fist but really there was no need. I looked four times before crossing streets because suddenly someone yelling “Are you blind?!” seemed pretty real. Without glasses I count as legally blind.

What other areas of my life do I not know I'm neglecting? My real vision, my real sense of smell, my real skin, my real… ? The list is long.