THE TURQUOISE PEN

SHARP

Noël R. King

Joe’s vision had never been outstanding, but at least it was serviceable. He had gotten contacts when he was 22 years old, and he had worn them ever since. Now in his early 40s, he rarely thought about his contacts except when he had to take them in or out between the major events of his life, such as going to bed at night and getting back up in the morning.

One spring day, as he was sitting out on his back porch, staring at the river so luckily right behind his house (he loved rivers), it seemed an exceptionally glorious day, and he rejoiced. The more he sat there, the more he realized the day was deliciously clear and his vision marvelously sharp.

"That’s what spring is good for," Joe said to nobody in particular, because his wife wasn’t home at the moment. "You can really see for once."

The sunset finally slid across the river to Joe’s back porch about five hours later, and he was still sitting there. Oh, he had gone inside every couple of hours to get another soda or to answer the phone and stuff like that, but his day had pretty much been spent right there, out on that porch.

"Ain’t that somethin’ . . . ," Joe muttered, mostly under his breath. He stretched his arms high above his head, feeling the muscles ripple pleasingly all the way down his back. ". . . what a good clear day can do for you."

The next day Joe went back out on his porch and sat there all day. The next day he sent his glasses to a remote village in Africa. The next day he rested from doing all that work. The next day he threw away his contacts, put on his hiking boots, and sat on his porch all day once again, resting one more time.

"I do believe I am ready now," he said the next morning as he stepped out the door, this time at last onto his front porch. "Ain’t that somethin’."

—As circumstances warrant, through her Turquoise Pen column Noël R. King, Reston, Virginia, reports on strange and wonderful things, including what can happen when vision sharpens.