Friday, June 17, 2011


Every now and then I forget that I can't drive. I am no longer struck by the oddness of gazing out the window and seeing only one car in our driveway. My 2007 Green Tea Honda CR-V, the first new car I ever bought,  no longer feels like mine when my dad is driving me home from dinner at my parents' house. I am used to scheduling appointments and errands around the availability of others. I even enjoy the freedom to have another glass of wine after dinner, because the responsibility of driving home never falls on my shoulders.

Then I am reminded. Like, the breath has been physically sucked from my lungs, I realize that I can't drive. Because, I can't see well enough to. As much as my vision has improved, it remains full of holes. Holes that blur the details. Details like distance, speed, the color of traffic lights, the name of street signs. Details that are somewhat important to heed while driving. Weeks may go by between these realizations, but every time it feels brand new. Like I've lost my sight all over again. I've gotten used to a lot over the last year.But I will never get used to this. 

Every little thing requires planning. Planning that doesn't always come naturally to me. Impulsivity and the need to plan are always colliding in my life. I want to be prepared, know what is going to happen next, predict my next move but I like the freedom to change my mind; to decide on a whim that I am going to do THIS instead. This internal conflict makes me, me.

Not driving is by far the hardest thing about losing my vision. I want to be able to take Emy to Mommy and Me classes, to the beach, to see my grandparents. I want to be able to call friends and arrange to meet for lunch in an hour, go to grocery store when I am inspired to cook a real meal for dinner. (a VERY rare occurrence, therefore one that shouldn't be discouraged), I want to be able to take my daughter to the doctor without my husband having to take the morning off work.

I want to be free.

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