Saw an optpmetrist today about the increased and increasing blurryness in my right eye. The good news is that I’ve not killed anyone yet. The bad news is that this defect in vision cannot be corrected by lenses. The optometrist referred me to a retinal specialist. This does not bode well... for anything.

Have you ever known the days that were too long by half? By half at least. And the nights anticipated from morning light too far away and both too long and too short? These are the hours that confound me now. The sharp end of things again. I’ve done all that I know to do to make life better for myself and for those I love. But there seems to be a wall there; here, right in front of me. It seems that nothing I can or could yet do will make things any better. My life was not meant to be lived alone, I guess. Perhaps that’s why I hungered for real love at such an early age and for so long. The only substitute was work, and work became my passion. Then thre was Mary. Now there is nothing. My body fails me daily win ways both large and small; sure signs to me that 60 is NOT the new 40. I know nothing else to do, and even work seems a sham at best. There is this wall. This wall. It is there when I awaken and there as the sun declines. And nothing else. I hope that I do not yet understand what the wall really is. I put it there. It is my construct, surely. I do not know what I fear most: that the wall will be my new forever, or that it will be breached or climbed or simply disappear.