This is How The World Ends
Realizing I needed glasses was just the beginning…
First my eyes start to go. It takes a while for me to notice. But once I do, I accept this fact with the good natured cynicism that I have used to usher in other signs of my impending mortality; the gray hairs and drooping eyelids, the way my body aches for the first third of every day. I purchase glasses, not the fancy kind but a cheap pair of magnifiers from a rotating stand at the end of the cracker aisle in my local grocery. Voila! Problem solved. I only need the glasses for reading. It is inconvenient but manageable. There is a part of me that relishes them, perceives the same hint of excitement that I had as a teenager getting braces; the sense that I have arrived at an important stage of my own evolution. Wearing glasses makes me feel as if I know something, as if my eyes have read enough to warrant being tired. Despite the fact that the glasses are a physical manifestation of my weakness, I feel smarter because of them.
There are rumors of a virus making its way through Asia. Every morning I wake and reach for the glasses so that I can read the news. There are no known cases in the US but still, I carry Lysol wipes with me. Everyone I know reacts to my fear in the same way: they think I am crazy. They scoff and laugh and some act worried about my mental acuity as they watch me wipe down tables before sitting in…
