My Glasses Know Where My Nose Goes – Niles Baldwin

July 24, 2026

The glasses they gave me after my appointment are important enough I keep them in the same place at all times. If I forget where they are it will be devastating. They are in protective plastic. They are in a box that used to have a gift in it. The glasses make the world so much better if you look through them. They are on my face to try to heal some of my nerves. Some of my nerves have been fractured by an illness. They are at the same time unfair and simple to blame. I wear the glasses slowly. Slowly over time. I’m told it is a long-term remedy. When I think they are solving things, I allow them more time to keep working longer. Early is no time to celebrate. The purple ones are life-affirming. They make the growth of summer look like a month not yet discovered. It will be the favorite month of everyone who sees what I’ve seen, purple. The green nearly lulls me to forget all that ails me. Melts my maladies at record speed and time. At the appointment they told me it is imperative I never wear the glasses for unequal time. I hope I always count the same amount of seconds in the same amount of space. I ask them why, but don’t take notes. They show me videos of what to expect. I have a child style mini meltdown and sink in my chair from fatigue. I decide to rewatch them when my eyes hurt less. I ask them to write down for me all the things that this will solve. I fantasize about results. I ask them to put it all in my portal. Please remind me at a later date what letter begins my password. It hides as I type, but if I close my eyes strong enough, my fingers type it right. When this is all over, when the long-term treatment is complete, I will put the glasses into their plastic sleeves, I will put them into their box, I will wrap the box in front page news as gift wrap and give them to whoever needs to see the world as beautiful as me.