seeing.

I am a loser...Of things. I was infamous among my high school friends for my talent. It drove my mother crazy. Purses in restaurants, wallets in waiting rooms, keys in doors, and most ardently and recently, glasses, wherever I am not. 

Before coming, I had bought a new pair. They were blue and lovely, and now they are in a store's lost and found box, somewhere in Seoul. I was told that glasses were fairly cheap here, and if I had my prescription, perhaps I could attain some before I left. 

My mom emailed me the numbers. I had what I needed. But there was the unsettled apprehension of the unknown...what if the guy at the counter doesn't speak English? What if the prescription is different here than there? What if I try, and in the process, make a fool of myself? And therein lies the adventure. 

It's a strange thing, fear coupled with excitement. Things that intimidate also provide a thrill. And all this from simply going to buy a pair of spectacles. 

I knew of a place on a corner on a street. I walked there, glanced in, and walked on past. Then I hesitated. "Just do it Meredith!" I told myself. The gentleman inside looked kind, so I turned around, and struggled through the clean glass doors. I acted a little foolish, but he was so kind, and greeted me with a, "can I help you?". Sigh. Yes. Yes you can. 

I showed him my prescription that I had scribbled down, rather neatly, on a little notepad, commenting that I wasn't sure if it was the same here as elsewhere. I am not sure if he got what I was saying, though I think he recognized the apprehension in my voice, and he quickly assured me that it could be done. Sigh, again. 

I shopped for frames, and he offered me a cold fruity drink. I put on a pair, and he nodded in approval or dismay...saying things like..."too small," or "red is better," or saying nothing at all, simply and kindly shaking his head no.

I found two that I liked, whose prices were right. I decided on a basic pair, and also, a pair of prescription sunglasses, something that would add a layer of safety to both my life and the lives my my fellow car drivers. 

He took my empty fruity glass bottle, and filled out the form. I think I said thank you and kamsamnida sixty times. He said my sunglasses would be ready Friday, and my spectacles would be ready in twenty minutes. I sat, waited, and read. Twenty minutes later, I hear, "Miss Meredith," and he smiles, letting me know he's finished. 

When I left, my picture of life was a little clearer than it was before I walked in the little shop on the corner on the street.