Sunday, September 20, 2020

Talking to Myself Forty

     A Teen's Christmas in Wales. Pub date: November 15, 2020

Talking to Myself Forty September 20, 2020

For Dr. Cohen

Some days are hard and wear me out.

Other days I float through, even though

I dreaded them. Going to the eye doctor

during a pandemic I’d delayed for three

months, but they gave me an appointment

right away, the same week, and Janet

said, “I’ll drive.” So driving home with

dilated eyes wouldn’t be a problem. I

said, “Yes, if you’re sure.” We waited

an hour. I love that Doctor Cohen, and

he remembered me. “Writing any books

lately?” I told him about The Teen’s

Christmas in Wales. “Good, good,” he

said. I said I was teaching, too. “Keep

it up,” he said. They took pictures of

the back of my eyes. He seemed to 

approve of what he saw. He looked

and looked for himself at the back of

my eyes. Then he said, “Your eyes

are good, and these glasses are okay,

too.” The ones that got bent when I

fell last November. True, I’d been reading

with them. Still, I’d worried. Janet

had waited and drove us home, gave

Wag a little time outside and then went

off to her next job. All the rest of the

day, I kept thinking: My eyes are good. 

My glasses are good.


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