Seeing Clearly
The announcement that Donna had reached middle age came stealthily and without warning.
Donna, at 42 years old, was in perfect health. She was fit, trim, and ate only the healthiest of foods, eschewing soda and candy. She was still asked for her identification when buying wine at the grocery store. She ran several miles every day; in local road races, she was known for beating people half her age.
“Forty is the new twenty!” her friends would say of Donna’s seeming agelessness.
Donna heard the quip so often that a part of her believed that this aging thing was surely only for other people.
That all changed during what should have been a fairly innocuous event: a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles to renew her driver’s license.
“Name?” the clerk asked, without looking up. Donna replied.
“Address?”
Donna gave it to her.
“Look through there, please,” The clerk gestured toward an eye-testing machine perched at the edge of the desk. “Read the first four lines,” she sighed.
Donna pushed her head against the contraption.
“Go ahead.”
Donna was perplexed. Everything was fuzzy. “I think the glass is dirty,” Donna said, searching the desk for a tissue to wipe off the lens.
“It’s not dirty,” the clerk said, her voice dripping with condescension.
“There must be some problem,” Donna said, pressing her head against the machine once more.
“Ma’am, do you wear glasses?”
“No, no, I don’t,” Donna responded, a little embarrassed now, as other people in the room began turning to see what was going on.
The clerk glanced down at Donna’s old license and back up at her. “Welcome to middle age, sweetheart. Come back when you’ve had an eye exam and gotten glasses.”
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