Not long after I found myself with little vision I purchased some wooden letters from a store in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. They were the first name initials of my husband, our parrot, Piper, and our first bird, Cato, who was with us for fifteen years, and myself. My friend helped me pick out paint so I could give each letter a color that meant something to each of us. My husband identified the bottles for me and we carefully organized them so I knew which was which. Despite our efforts, I mixed them up and put the wrong colors on the letters. I didn’t know it and couldn’t wait to show my completed work to the first person who stopped in, but my enthusiasm met its quick demise when she informed me of my mistake. She did it so matter-of-factly and now I understand she was as new at having a visually impaired friend as I was at being one. But at the time I was hurt by her delivery and so angry with myself and my situation that I packed up the paints and the letters and stored them in the attic where they have remained for almost five years. I forgot about them because it upset me to remember.
In retrospect I don’t know what it was about this particular challenge that caused me to shut it down. In all other things since my sight became diminished I have kept going and if there has been a pause, it never turned into a stop. I think it was the timing, so soon after I got sick, that I didn’t have all the necessary coping skills in place nor had I learned the extent of my optic nerves’ deterioration. I thought I could still do what I always did and discovering I could not was like drinking turpentine: bitter, nauseating, painful and life threatening. But I can also say without hesitation that I really believed my full vision would return. The doctors couldn’t say it wouldn’t. They couldn’t say it would either.
We have been starting to work on the house: painting and refreshing rooms with new pictures and accessories. Not handyman and woman by nature, we are doing it ourselves, finding our way with the assistance of YouTube videos and the helpful people at our local hardware store. It’s exciting in a way I hadn’t expected nor did I anticipate how one project would lead to another, one room the next, which is how I came to retrieve the abandoned incorrectly painted wooden letters. I got them out last week and the bottles of color were all expired so I bought new and began to reapply the paint. I have a little more sight than I did in those early days and it was a bit easier, but honestly I can’t see tiny spots I’ve missed or streaks or drips. But I carefully and methodically brushed the colors on and once done, my husband inspected and declared them perfect.
They now hang on the wall in our entry hall, representing every being who has made this house a home. I am so happy with the result and that I revisited the crafting of this homemade decor. Sometimes a project is not just a do-it-yourself, it’s for yourself.
