They’re just lavender glasses. A little bit of horn-rim to the frame. A little kicky. A lot Mom.
I found them when I was cleaning up her room yesterday, putting clothes away as best I could. I folded all the beautiful PJs people have given her. I stacked up her collection of hats – the scarves I tucked into the second drawer on the left. I pulled her shoes out from under her bed and hung them on the shoe rack. And then, I saw them, sitting underneath the piles of sweaters and comfy pants – the lavender glasses. I started to cry.
Mom got these special glasses – with a tiny window for distance at the top and a bigger space for close-up – so that when she plays the piano she can read the music and see the director clearly. Special lenses just for her.
She told me about them one day when we were talking at a restaurant somewhere (boy, do I wish I could remember where we were now?) She was so proud of herself for choosing the purple. The lady at the eye doctor’s had recommended them because she could pull them off, and she was so excited to get them and sport them. Her crazy old lady in purple glasses.
I’m not sure if she ever wore them. I am sure she didn’t wear them enough.
Now, they lay on the dresser. I left them where I found them, a tiny semblance of the future she won’t see. They crack my heart a little each time I walk by them.