I had a cataract removed from one eye. The doctor rolled up the bandages very slowly.
Suddenly the world was so bright, florescent, even magical. I couldn't believe what I saw.
The colors even in his bland office were so vivid, the textures unexpectedly rich in detail.
Then, I glanced at myself in the doctor's mirror. Who is that woman?
Her pale features, the rough texture of her skin, the heavy grooves under her eyes.
When did she get to be that age? Oh my God, could that be who I have become?
My doctor said, "You've been looking at yourself through rose lenses
that were last used to shoot Elizabeth Taylor on a sunshiny day. Let her go.
Accept yourself. Everyone else accepts this Toni Morrison. Why shouldn't you?"
I couldn't stop staring in the mirror. It was too horrifying for words.
When did I become this old woman? Where was I looking when this visage overtook me?
How did this happen, to me - a sparky youthful athlete still in high school?
