A public plea

Dear Lafont eyeglasses,

It has been five months since we’ve been together. You resting fashionably on my face. Me looking fashionably through your lenses. I’m still missing you and think of you often, like the other day when I rifled through the couch cushions for the 50th time hoping to find you.

Many a night I have imagined with fear what might have happened to you. I have pictured your beautiful black titanium frame crushed to bits in the garbage man’s truck, your sparkly white, genuine Swarovski crystals trickling out of the broken plastic cat-eye cover like teardrops.

You are the fanciest and by far the most expensive pair of glasses I have ever owned...an impulse purchase really... bought with unused flex spending money on a deadline. I wasn’t looking for anything special, but as I browsed, there you were, all French design, imported and exotic on the shelf. I had to take a day to think about the investment, but when I chose you I went all out, even getting the special lenses for you that fade to dark when we would go out in the sun.

I walked past an eyeglasses store on my way home from school the other day and I considered buying another cheaper, more utilitarian pair, just to get by until you come home. You were my only pair with my recent prescription, and now seeing is a little bit more of an effort. But I decided to wait, because I still hold out hope that I will serendipitously discover you months or years from now in one of my many Tupperware storage containers. Maybe I set you in it by accident and you got covered over? Or worse, maybe a cat jumped on the table and bumped you into the nearby uncovered recycle bin where you tumbled to the bottom, unnoticed? Maybe you were clinging to the cabinet and fell in the bathroom garbage when no one was home? I shudder to think of the possibilities, but I hope that you are just hiding somewhere in the house, waiting for our reunion. Please show yourself. I miss you, Lafont eyeglasses. I really do.

Leah