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Last summer, when my family and I were on a trip, my husband’s glasses broke. The lens popped out of the frame, leaving him with a handful of pieces that we could not readily put back together.

Not to make light of my husband’s farsightedness, I was thankful that these glasses were just reading glasses. Although he depends on them for reading small print at work, he could make do without them for a time far better than I could have without the ones I wear to correct my nearsightedness.

We wrapped my husband’s glasses up in a couple of tissues and packed them away in the suitcase. We intended to take them to our doctor’s office to be put back together when we arrived back home. Unpacking them a few days later, I placed them on the dresser still wrapped up in tissues as we did not have time to get them repaired right away.

One day as I was cleaning house, I noticed the tissues that had been carefully placed on the dresser were now gone — including the glasses. We searched in vain through the trash hoping to find them again.

We wondered how they had disappeared, figuring that somehow he must have grabbed them and tossed them in the trash can. Still, it baffled us how he was unable to feel the rims and lenses through the thin paper that was meant to protect them.

In contrast to my husband’s farsightedness, my vision is defined by nearsightedness and astigmatism. Without my glasses the world would be a very fuzzy place for me. I reach for my glasses when I first wake up and take them off moments before my head hits the pillow.

I was 12 when I first started wearing glasses, one of the most awkward ages for changing something about your appearance. The last thing I wanted during those preteen years was to have to be sentenced to a lifetime of rimmed frames.

I was told I only needed them to watch television or read the blackboard at school. I guess it’s what most kids were told to lessen the anxiety of being saddled with those great big lenses that were popular once upon a time.

Walking into my sixth-grade classroom, I quickly and quietly put my pocket­book into my desk before anyone else could take notice of me. I slid my hand into my purse and took my glasses out of their case, placing them on my face in one quick move. I was not looking forward to wearing these things at school.

I quickly began to work on assignments that the teacher had listed on the blackboard, amazed at just how clear these new glasses made everything.

My teacher noticed immediately that I was wearing glasses and complimented my new look, causing my fellow classmates to take note. It was one of those “ah-ha” moments as I realized I had underestimated the fact that because my teacher wore glasses, no one would dare make a cruel joke about my appearance — at least not out loud where she or I could hear.

The anxiety I had felt melted away, and I soon realized that the trade-off of wearing glasses was well worth the clearer vision I now possessed. There was no going back to the out-of-focus world I had known before.

Everything was different now — the rocks in our gravel driveway, the television shows I loved to watch, the tiny Christmas tree lights that December of 1978. Life was just better.

Well, my husband eventually made it to the eye doctor and ordered a new pair of reading glasses, clearing up all of that small print he faces daily.

Despite the fact we both wear glasses for different reasons, one thing remains unclear to us both — how exactly did he throw away his other pair of glasses?

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.