A Poster on the Wall in the Burbank Airport

I was blind once. My eyes had to be patched for 48 hours after I scratched both my corneas by wearing my contact lenses (the old-fashioned hard ones) for too long.  I woke up the next morning unable to open my eyes in the sunlight. After a trip to the ER, Mr. Ex drove me home and made me beef stroganoff. Eating is  awkward when you are newly blind. You can't find your knife or fork or the plate, and getting a sauce-covered noodle into your mouth is nigh unto impossible. Mr. Ex fed me my dinner that night back when we loved each other.

Love is blind, too--or so the saying goes.  But I don't really believe that any more than I believe that justice is blind. I think we lovers see the writing on the wall and choose to ignore it--bind our eyes against the truth and go on our merry way until the wall falls on us and we can't ignore it and its messages any longer.