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Glasses

Sitting on the couch in the living room, his long legs swinging over the edge of the cushions and soft light filtering through the blinds behind him. He’s just finished eating breakfast and is now watching early morning cartoons. His new glasses slide down his nose and he uses a single finger to push them up again, as he’s recently been taught, carefully making sure to touch only the plastic frame and not the lenses.

He first got the glasses two weeks ago, after a 20 minute city bus ride to collect them from an eye doctor in a different neighbourhood. Within a few hours of first putting them on, the lenses were already covered with sticky fingerprints and dirt transferred from little hands. How is it that small boys of a certain age seem to just magically attract dirt? By the end of each day, no matter what they have played or been doing, little fingers and faces are coated in a thin film of dirt and there’s always plenty under fingernails too. Keeping the glasses clean is going to be an effort.

No one has ever really told me before that he looks like me. It’s understandable, our skin tone and hair colour are completely different. But now people keep telling us about how much we look alike. He says he likes to have glasses so that he looks “like mummy”.

“But my glasses are blue. Mummy’s glasses are brown, so they’re not the same.”

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