Being Wise Thirty-four

                                 Judy and Mikhail     1992 Kostroma, Russia

Being Wise Thirty-Four

September 26, 2021

It has been what? Nine years?

I don’t think he has ever asked

for new glasses, or not for years.

That’s the expensive part. I paid

for these. They’ve lasted, even

when I fell and bent them. Tough,

like me, like you. You had trouble

speaking except about my eyes.

When I did the eye test for your

assistant, I couldn’t see the letters

with my right eye, only with the

left. I think I was having a brain

bleed, like I had last Monday night.

I was upset then and couldn’t read

the page numbers. I’d learned he

was retiring. I asked if he wanted

to. He said yes. Could he recommend

another eye doctor? No, but they’d

assign me one. He studied my eyes,

now dilated. Then he said, “There’s

no problem. They’re normal. They’re

fine." I told him about my new disease,

the little brain bleeds. I think they

happened for his assistant, not for him.

We entered the territory of the sacred.

He loved it that I’d given him a book.

He remembered that I was self-

publishing. He said, “You must keep

working." I said, “I am. I will."