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Thanks For My Eyesight

Monday, August 31st, 2009 by Alyice

I just got through watching an episode of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, in which a photographer was in danger of losing his eyesight for good. Determined to get the most out of the vision he had left, he set out to take photographs of all the beauty around him—even at the expense of his health. He said that if all he was going to be able to see is darkness then he wanted his memories to be of something beautiful and pleasant, not of the war he covered.

It was at that point I felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude for my own eyesight. Sometimes I get so annoyed with having to wear glasses that I wish for perfect vision—or at least the guts and funds to remove my astigmatism with lasek eye surgery. Sometimes, I just want to wake up in the morning and not have to reach for a pair of glasses. But at that moment, I realized that imperfect vision is far better than no vision at all.

Think about it. What would the world be like if all of a sudden all you saw was darkness?

What if you could never again watch white, fluffy clouds gracefully float across the sky, forming various shapes, figures, and scenes? What if you could never see the smile on your children’s faces? What if you could never see colors, or textures, or diversity? What if you could never look into your loved one’s eyes again? What if you could never paint another painting, or sew another quilt, or build another craft? What if you could never see the cinematography in another film? What if all you saw was darkness?

Our lives are enriched every day by the sights we see. I can’t imagine never having my sight, and hope to never have to experience such a loss. So yes, today I am grateful for my less than 20/20 vision.

Give thanks…

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Thanks For The Little Things

Friday, August 28th, 2009 by Alyice

Yesterday afternoon, we dropped our son off at college, said our good-byes, and commenced to make the long drive home. This morning, I woke up in his room—where I had fallen asleep holding his pillow and looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his wall—feeling his absence.

I tried desperately not to call him, but by mid-afternoon I couldn’t contain myself. I called his cell, but there was no answer so I left a message. Then I dropped him a really quick email that simply said, “How was your first night away from home? Did you eat breakfast? Are you doing okay?” So far, I haven’t heard back from him. I suspected I wouldn’t as he’s away for the ROTC camp-out, but I just needed to reach out to him—to let him know that I love him and that I am thinking of him.

This is the first time he’s been so far away from home and for so long. He’s 18 years old; a man in the sight of the legal system and a college student to everyone else. But to me, he’s still my baby boy, and always will be.

It’s hard to let him grow up and find his independence. It’s hard to let him be a man and make his own decisions without mom there to back him up—whatever the outcome. It’s hard but I know it’s his right of passage. And he’s worked so hard and so long to prove himself to me, to his dad, to himself.

I knew this day was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. For 18 years I took care of this boy. For 18 years he lived in the same house with me. For 18 years thinking about his needs, desires, and wants were second nature to me. For 18 years he was a big part of my life. For 18 years I looked after him and now, I must let him go—to find his own way in the world.

And right now, at this very moment, it feels as though part of me is missing.

I went to the grocery store today and it was hard. There were certain food items that I would always buy just for him and now there was no need. Then I came home and walked into the bathroom where I found his favorite toothpaste and it became hard again. Then I washed a load of laundry and found a pair of shorts we forgot to pack, and again, it was hard. Then my daughter came home from school, and the house was quiet—there was no horseplay, there was no laughter, just silence—and it was hard again. Then we went to Subway® to pick up dinner and there was no need to buy his favorite sandwich—Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki. And that’s when I realized, as the tears gently streamed down my face, that this letting him grow up is going to be tough.

And yet, I know that he’s only a phone call, an email, or a 6 hour drive away. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

Give thanks…

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Thanks For The Roof Over Our Heads

Monday, August 24th, 2009 by Alyice

Some days, I long so badly to own a home of my own again that I act a little ungrateful for the home we do have. We rent this house:

By all accounts it is a nice house. It’s a two bedroom with a converted attic (that we don’t use ‘cuz it gets far too hot in summer and far too cold in winter) and huge two-car garage. It has a tiny kitchen, a huge living room, and a big basement. The roof and basement don’t leak. There are no mold or moisture issues. The heating and cooling works. The electrical outlets do their job and while the water pressure is less than desirable, we have running water.

Plus, we have a great landlord. He leaves us alone and doesn’t micromanage the place. And should something need repairing, he’s right there to take care of it. And should we decide to paint a room, he’s willing to pay for the paint and brushes, as long as we paint it ourselves.

Still, there are days I long to own a home of my own and on those days, I can be a bit of a bear. But something happened this weekend that really put things into perspective: I ran into a homeless couple who were affected by the current state of our economy.

They must have been in their mid-fifties. The only things they owned were the clothes on their backs and the materials in their backpacks. They were holding a sign asking not for handouts, but for work.

At one time, they had a place to lay their heads at night, a place to shelter them from the ever-changing South Dakota climate, and a place to eat their meals. But now, they had no place. Thanks to our economy, they were without jobs and without a home.

And it broke my heart.

It starts easily enough, doesn’t it? A lay off, the inability to find work, the unemployment benefits run out, the savings run out, the landlord wants his rent but there’s just no money to pay the rent—and next thing you know, you’re locked out of your place. Your personal belongings are auctioned off to pay for past due rent and you find yourself homeless.

As I handed them a bag of groceries I choked back the tears; realizing that there was nothing more I could do.

“It could happen to any one of us,” I thought to myself.

How many of us live paycheck to paycheck? How many of us struggle just to make ends meet and don’t live elaborate lifestyles? How many of us have worked hard our entire lives but due to one crisis or another have nothing more to show for it?

The next time you see a homeless person, pause a moment. Observe them. Are they hobos who love living on the road and taking handouts from strangers to get them through the next day or are they people, just like you and me, who’ve hit a rough patch and just need someone to show them a little kindness?

Then ask yourself, “How can I help?”

It may not be your place to provide shelter but there are other things you can do. You can provide an umbrella on a rainy day, a blanket and jacket during the cold winter months, something to quench their thirst, food to fill their bellies, or you can direct them to the nearest homeless shelter.

All it takes is just one small act of kindness to give them hope and make this world a better place.

Give thanks…

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AlyiceEdrich.com
I'm a mixed media artist and freelance writer. Need web content? Want to commission or license art? Let's Talk.

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