Giddy Kid

This rapture of gorgeous sight continues. My sister accompanied me to the follow-up eye doctor appointment this morning, where they said things looked very very good -- little do they know how GOOD THINGS look from in here! I continue to open Christmas presents ... I mean ... LOOK at things completely enthralled ... asking the eye doctor if he'd like me to count the whiskers in his beard ... I'd be happy to ... I've never seen with such clarity. Actually he looks at my records and suggests I really NEVER have seen with 20/20 vision which is about what I have.

We leave the building with me still ga-ga, looking at every single shoelace in a kid's beautiful black hightop sneakers all the way across the street, I can see the gromets for goodness sakes, the bricks and mortar in the Old West Church next to Mass Generall, birds all the way up near the top of the steeple, and then we turn the corner onto Cambridge Street and come right up to a fruit stand.

A beautiful, sunny August morning and a fruit stand.

And I mean a FRUIT stand.

She keeps walking.

I'm standing there, glued in place, drop jawwed, staring rudely at the most beautiful triangular stack of peaches I've ever seen. Near these beauties are some nectarines -- glowing in a blush of vermillion, next to them plums. Good lord.

She turns to see I'm not with her.

She looks back up the street. Thank god she's an artist and a painter. She understands and excuses my multiple orgasms of visual intercourse in public.

We look at each other -- we laugh -- she does me one better than the peaches, pointing to the watermelon slices.

I wince. Exquisite.