Missing the "I" | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Missing the "I" | Previous Challenge Entry
By Angeline oppenheimer
01/31/07
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Missing the “I”

My husband is an eye-doctor who suffers from myopia. Not an eye ailment but an outlook ailment….he takes his job seriously, even when he’s home.

“Now, sit back ten feet. You’ll ruin your eyes like that. Scoot back now,” you’ll hear him say that whenever he chances upon the kids sitting a tad too near the television set.

The kids have heard it so often it’s like an unwelcome draft each time he passes by the television set. Yet they find their little bodies gravitating towards the set, no matter how hard they try. They have told me in secret that they wish their dad were a plumber, a firefighter, a starbucks worker or even the trash truck guy, anything…

If the kids find it rough, think about me.

“Honey, why are you reading by the dim light?” So he goes and switch on the 500 watt-light that can actually blind your eyes.”

“I can see fine. Please turn that off. It’s hurting me with that intense light.” I grunt into my book.

“Speaking of that…I think you should come into the office one of these days and have your eyes checked.” says the ever cautious one.

“But you just have it checked three months ago!” I protest.

“Come in anyway. You’re getting those lines around your eyes and you know, honey, you’re getting there.”

“Getting where?” I’m now defensive. Nobody tells me where, especially when it’s going down the time curve. I have enough mirrors to tell me that.

“Where you may need reading glasses,” he says it matter-of-factly, as if the reminder of age doesn’t hurt.

So we suffer from myopia repulsive syndrome. Now, I wish I have a husband with a different job description.

However, God sometimes lightens those seemingly annoying moments with his own comic relief

My husband went back to William and Mary, Williamsburg, for his college reunion. While we were there, he took us to his favorite old town restaurant for Irish Soda Bread and Brunswick stew, served by waiters caught in the 17th century garb.

As our Colonial meal culminated with the eager anticipation of desert, we wasted no time in picking one.

My husband leaned over to me, “Aren’t the kids suppose to get apples? Never heard of apples as a desert in restaurant.”

“Apples? Maybe they were more health conscious then. But, just of our of curiosity, where does it say they will be given apples?’ I was puzzled too.

“See the kids’ menu. It says, “Apples to children under twelve.”

Without my reading glasses, I whispered back, “It says, “Applies to children under twelve. You miss the I .” ( no pun intended).

Both of us burst into laughter. Who needs reading glasses now? I had wanted to rub it in but you know the part of the Bible that says, “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eyes and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” I hope my husband get the message, duh?

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