Spectacles

Today I wore my glasses. Which I almost never do, save for bedtime. I’ve always been one to prolong a night’s end. I’ve hosted parties where I’ve nodded off on the couch, crystal in hand, because I couldn’t bear the thought of missing one thing. When I was younger, I’d lament my poor vision and the frames I’d have to wear. I couldn’t dance properly (pirouettes are difficult enough without your eyewear flying from your face) and I especially hated them during sleepovers. We’d stay up, tiny girl voices chatting and gossiping and dreaming, until it was finally time to drift off. Removing my glasses signaled the end. The end of the night, the end of the fun.

Today I wore them all day long. I just removed them and glanced at my face in the mirror. And looking back was a lovely, hazy, softer version of myself. I had such a tremendous moment of loving what I could see. Of being kind to myself. I’m ready to curl up in bed, slip off my frames, and end the night. I’m not afraid of missing a thing. I’m carrying that kindness with me, through the darkness, until the light pours into my little white bedroom.