Susan LaffertyWithout lenses, the world is one blurry shape after another for me.
Muted colors. Fading edges. Always a curious guess as to what they are.
And along the way, signs I cannot read.
So I move through. Blind in the blur.
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.
Back in the day we studied our stress by listing losses. Marking life experiences.
All the cross-cultural moves. Illnesses. Births. Deaths. Evacuations.
Added up, the numbers were telling.
Stress levels confirmed.
