It was early, the morning of departure from LA.
I, out walking in Palisades Park.
Committing each plant to memory.
Bob, asleep, awakened by a ringing phone.
A call from the pharmacy.
Three hours ahead in Philadelphia.
To discuss a long awaited script for me, not him.
Requiring a prior authorization and an interview.
Still groggy, he grabbed his favorite reading glasses.
The tortoise shell ones.
Dialed to merge me in, transfer the call.
Then jumped out of bed, rushing to make farewells.
To children, grandchildren.
But, in haste, he couldn’t find his glasses.
He searched the room.
Sheets, pillows, blankets.
No luck.
Later, I, too, scoured the space.
Closet, dresser drawers, desk.
Completely gone.
Bob moaned off and on, my best glasses.
But, miracle of miracles, they reappeared.
The next morning in the dryer!
Having been washed with underwear.
Bob texted me the good news.
Incredulous, he found his glasses,
lenses cleaned and shining bright.
Once he popped them on his face,
voilà, clear, limitless hindsight!
Lynn Benjamin
April 2, 2024