Clean Glasses

Clean Glasses She took off her glasses, held them up to the light. They hadn’t been cleaned in a while. She licked both sides of the lenses. She does this without thinking. This was how they cleaned glasses in the old days. Before it became gauche, a faux pas in polite society. She used her slip to wipe them dry. She put them back on, sliding them up to the red spot at the top of her nose. She’s now ready to read. Yesterday it was her bible, tomorrow, well it will be her clippings from the paper. But today it’s a letter from the kids. It’s was those letters that required clean glasses. A paper chain that connected her emptiness back to her heart. Pages of joys and heartaches. Allowing her to share, permitting her to grieve. It was the glasses, her precious glasses that kept her connected. Years passed, the kids letters slowed over time, as those things will do. The ritual of cleaning her glasses faded too. The reason to keep them clean didn’t seem all that important. She still reads her bible, her clippings too. She still hopes that one day, there will be a need. To take them off, hold them up to the light, do the impolite thing and clean her glasses. 10/28/16