I started the day with not unexpected news, but a story I have sidestepped for many, many years. This morning, I agreed I have glaucoma. I’ve probably had glaucoma for a while, but I wasn’t ready to face it until now. Almost 30 years ago a virus wrecked my left eye, and gently maimed my right. Those pressures go UP. They go DOWN. They go UP a little higher. They go DOWN. Glaucoma was finally mentioned for realsies last year, but I wanted to do ma’ rounds. Meditation, shamanic healing, what-have-you. I bought myself a really good year. But my corneas have thinned, so it’s time to let go, and stop the waiting game. 30 years is long enough. Let’s face it: I gave it a good run. My orbs are tired. Enough Lori…enough.

It was time to play the “cheer myself up game”, so I tried to pick out fabric for a sofa with dilated eyes. That was a super dumb idea, but I was entertaining to the interior decorators who witnessed 2 truly ridiculous hours of my life. If you stand at a window and SMASH your face into a grasscloth fabric with dilated eyes, can you SEE IT? The answer is no. I repeated this unsuccessful method with every brown grasscloth in a 4000 square foot fabric showroom. I’ve seen schizophrenics with faster insight into their madness.

I went to the house, and stood in my sunny kitchen. Bright Cantina music was playing, and men were surrounding my house and singing. I felt like I was on my honeymoon in Mexico, and it was just what I needed. Did I dance? Lil’ bit. Not going to lie. I was feeling pretty grateful. After all, these eyes are the same eyes I had yesterday. Aging sucks for everyone; I don’t get the Brownie Badge for doing it with flair. Glaucoma at 42? Get in line. Crap that happens after 40 doesn’t even count. My Sister-in-Law said it best, “In the world of “omas”, you’ve had worse.” AGREED. This is like…the permanent marker of “omas”, but it’s not melanoma! It’s a middle oma at best. I ate a Big Mac (don’t judge me, it was prescribed), and decided to move on. Nothing to see here. Literally! HAHAHA!!

When I gave up and collapsed into the mindless internet for the evening, I read that a blogger I follow passed away yesterday, leaving 2 young children. A child I’ve been praying for since 2009 has a return of her brain tumor. A 3rd recurrence for a brain tumor with a zero percent survival rate. What can I say? I’m a sucker for miracle praying. Put off glaucoma for 30 years…you’ll believe in miracles.

Kelly walked around the corner as I was reading and said, “Cursive requires bravery”. I got to hear that. While were reading together, she said, “I don’t think truer should be a word. It’s too odd. I’m going to say more true instead.” I totally agree. I was there to witness this revelation. The girls avoided bedtime by making up study songs for Sara’s upcoming Art test. “I wish my eyes would turn the color of my fate”. Deep, my children…DEEP. I got to hear their melodies about tertiary colors: “t-u-r-s-h-e-w-a-r-y, that’s our agreement on how you are spelled. You are hard to spell, and even harder to understand…”

I haven’t missed a moment. I haven’t appreciated all of them, but I’ve been there. I’m a walking-talking-still-seeing history book of my family’s days together. My fingers are stained with the failed Kool-Aid hair dye experiment for Crazy Hair Day at school. My living room is covered with random craft pieces, because I’m not attending just ONE Spirit Week Assembly tomorrow. I’m attending TWO. I’m the MC at my Niece’s school! I’m a sucker for an audience of kids celebrating the end of a successful trashbag selling season. What can I say? Hand me that microphone and let’s ROCK this CATHOLIC TRASHBAG SELLIN’ SCHOOL! As a gag, did I make a wardrobe out of trashbags?  MAAAAYBEEEE….

I get to be a part of ALL of my life, and the amazing people who fill it to overflowing. Now, I’ll just do it with eye drops. But I told my doc the eye drops are temporary. I’ll only take them until a cure is found. In the meantime, he agreed around me, he’ll call my diagnosis “glaucoma-esque”, or “glaucoma-like”. Either way, I’m cool with it. I’m diagnostically flexible.

In the celebration of seeing, please leave a comment telling me about the beautiful things you saw this week. With your heart, your head, your eyes…doesn’t matter. It’s all love. And while I never turn down prayers, please think of it this way: God answered this prayer for 30 years. In my opinion, I already got my miracle. Godspeed to you and yours this weekend, my friends. Godspeed.