Leaned forward awkwardly in the physician’s chair, my chin propped on a plastic ledge and my face pressed against a large, intimidating contraption that would undoubtedly point out my poor vision, all I could hear was one voice: my mother’s.

For years growing up, my mom repeatedly warned me to turn a light on while reading, to bring a flashlight on road trips because she knew I’d stay up late in the back seat, pouring through the pages long after the sun set.

“You’ll wreck your eyes,” she said more times than I can count.

“My eyes are perfect!” I’d retort.

To my chagrin 20 years later, I’m more than aware that my eyes are, in fact, not perfect.

I’ve been wearing glasses since the seventh grade, my crummy vision a combined result of bad genes and stubbornness. As my love for photography has grown, though, my glasses have become more and more of a hindrance, so I decided it was time to make the switch back to contacts.

I never much cared for sticking my finger in my eyes, but my insecure and slightly vain teenage self got tired of hiding behind metal frames, so I tried contacts in high school. But with the hustle and bustle of juggling 16 credits and two jobs in college, the vanity quickly dissipated, and behind those metal frames I have remained.

I have had dozens of eye exams and glasses fittings, special tests to monitor issues with headaches and a random scar on the back of my left eye, but I’ve never had an experience like this past Monday.

Somehow I’ve managed to avoid having to do any sort of work after previous optometrist appointments, but this time, I had to return to the office and make some newspapers after having my pupils dilated.

As a result, I gained a whole new level of appreciation for my eyes.

The PA at the optometrist’s office, a longtime friend of the family, had warned me that it would be difficult to work, but my stubborn self returned anyway, and boy was it a struggle. Thankfully, my coworkers came to the rescue and laid out your Tuesday papers, because otherwise you all might have had as much trouble as I was having reading the newspaper that day.

After having your pupils dilated, it is common to lose your nearsightedness temporarily, especially on computer screens. Everything was a blur, and I was a mess. All afternoon, all I could do was figuratively kick myself for ignoring my mother’s lectures and taking for granted the fact that my eyes would always work properly.

So, for all the times I should have said it and haven’t: Mom, you were right, and I was wrong. Take comfort in the fact that your voice is forever ingrained in my mind.

 

Ambrosia Neldon is the managing editor at Leader Publications. She can be reached by phone at (269) 687-7713, or by email at ambrosia.neldon@leaderpub.com.