I had so much to write about yesterday evening. But I had no time.

And tonight I am so tired. I mean it’s only 10:41 as I write this, yet my eyes are closing quickly. But maybe that’s because I still have the drops in my eyes and the large-pupils-look from my visit to the eye doctor.

I’ve known him since I was in second grade. My mom loves to tell the story of when I first went to see him and asked if some day the thickness of my eyeglasses would result in a look similar to wearing framed Coke bottles. I realize this makes no sense whatsoever, but it does get a rise out of everyone who’s heard it all before.

He asked me what was new and looked at my finger, so I figured it was a good a time as any to share my news. It wasn’t his genuine congratulations or the way he said “I wish you all the happiness” before we parted ways late this afternoon that gave me the warm fuzzies, it was as I was sitting in the waiting room all alone before my visit that I felt impatient and irritable. I heard the secretary ladies, all apparent friends, laughing and yelling, bidding one another a good night. I wanted to bid them goodnight and enjoy my weekend too. And it was then that the kind, gentle, weathered man who is my eye doctor, walked by and lit up as he said, “Hi _____________. It’s so nice to see you.” I knew it wasn’t fake; how many times do I see this man a year? And at twenty past five, he wasn’t in a rush to end his day and begin his weekend.

Again, this is my eye doctor, not some long lost acquaintance, but some how I feel like I’d be sad on the day he announces his retirement, sad if he ever moved away, sad if he was sad.

And as I looked up on his office walls as he wrote out scripts for lenses and glasses as he has done many years before, I was proud.

So Dr. Fraoili, this one’s for you.


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