I’ve been overly focused on my eyes lately. On seeing. On not seeing.

Late this past April my retina tore. Surgery followed and my vision was regained–mostly. My right pupil remains dilated, which is normal–up to a point. It may still recover. It may not. I’m nearing the border between optimism and realism on that front.

The retinal surgery is traumatic to the eye, and kickstarts cataract growth. While planning for that next surgery to my right eye, the doctor discovered I was overachieving–having naturally created another less severe but surgery-qualifying cataract in my left eye.

The right eye surgery wasn’t debatable, and I had that completed a few weeks ago. At my follow up appointment, I was unsure if I wanted to have the left eye done, though I had, at the doctor’s suggestion, already scheduled it for the following week. “You can always cancel it,” he’d told me.

I debated the pros and cons with the tech for quite some time. Finally, she handed me a pad of paper.

“Close your left eye and look at this,” she said.

I did.

“What color is it?”

“White,” I said.

“Ok, now close your right eye and look at it,” she said. “What color is it?”

My jaw dropped. “Whoa! It’s sepia!” I said.

I suddenly saw what I hadn’t even known I was seeing. Or not seeing.

So, the following week I had the second cataract surgery on my left eye.

A few days after that, my husband called me to the window. “Look at all the blue jays!” he said. “I’ve never seen so many together!”

I looked out the window at a dozen or more jays crowding the feeder, scattered across the lawn, and breaking off to fly up into the nearby trees. “Wow! They are so blue right now!” I said, wondering about the afternoon light and how it was creating that impression. Until I realized it wasn’t just the light, it was my “restored” vision. I sat for long moments drinking in the vibrant blues.

These days I perch on the edge of returning to school and its relentless pace, and I am also more and more aware that I am nearing the far edge of middle age. I ponder what I see in this world. And in my life. And the choices I have made and will make. I wonder what I haven’t seen. What blocks me from seeing. What I’m missing.

I keep wondering how I didn’t know what I wasn’t seeing. I imagine that the change was gradual, so I simply didn’t notice it. But it makes me think about how often we miss things with unintentional, unacknowledged blindness. About how changing a lens can make all the difference in the world.