Susan LaffertyOnce a year, I see it.
Visual of my blindspots.
Patterns of grey and black mapped out on a screen in the ophthalmologist’s office.
In life, blindspots can creep in. And continue. Unnoticed. Never addressed.
Endangering vision and obedience.
Something new. Blank page of another year. Month. Day.
Unwritten. Unspoken. Unknown by me.
At the open door sits fresh, white snow as far as the eye can see. Waiting for the first footprint.
Looks like hope.
Christmas season. Spent last year in a world-class city. One of our favorites.
All shiny and bright. Perfect lights. Colors on point.
Christmas soundtrack playing continually. In stores. And on the streets. Everywhere.
In an Asian city.
