The Darling Files: "Street Cred"
I started wearing glasses in third grade, back before hipster frames were a thing. In the days of my youth, glasses were affiliated with the likes of Steve Urkel, and I didn’t want to be a nerd, so I never wore mine. Needless to say, my vision only went downhill from there. At the age of 12, my parents finally permitted me to get contacts, which I still wear to this day, albeit with a far stronger prescription.
My own children didn’t believe me when I recently told them how poorly I can see. One night I took my contacts out and told my boys to stand across the room from me so I could prove it to them.
Everett walked to the other side of the room and said, “Now what?”
I could tell his t-shirt said something on it, but I couldn’t read the words. Not even close.
“Are you serious?!” he practically yelled, both entertained and dumbfounded.
“I’m serious,” I admitted, “I also can’t really see your face? Like I can see you standing there, but you’re just a blur. Now, start walking toward me, slowly, and I’ll tell you when I can read your t-shirt.”
He started taking baby steps in my direction, one after the other, pausing when he assumed I could read it. But even standing four feet in front of me, squinting, I still couldn’t make out a single letter on his shirt.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.
The next morning, Everett and Carson asked if they could watch me put my contacts in, something I’ve done every day for 24 years.
They stood in the doorway of the bathroom, absolutely fascinated. I like to think I earned some street cred with them that day. They never knew their mom could touch her eyeballs like that.
