On a Monday, while Ashton was at work, I called Dr. Morgan’s office and asked for the first appointment they had.
I took a rideshare to the Casey Eye Institute up on the hill. I sat in that waiting room clutching my cane so hard my knuckles ached.
Dr. Morgan ran test after test. Lights. Charts I couldn’t read. Machines that hummed. A technician who put drops in my eyes that stung like crazy.
After almost two hours, Dr. Morgan rolled his little stool over in front of me. I could see the shape of him. A gray blob with a white coat.
And I could tell, even through the blur, that he was smiling.
“Sutton,” he said. “We’re seeing encouraging signs of improvement.”
I gripped the arms of the chair.
“Does that mean my eyesight might actually come back?”
“Your vision is showing some recovery,” he said carefully. “I can’t predict how far it’ll go. It could stop where it is. It could keep improving for months. But this is a real, positive development. This is not your imagination.”
Not my imagination.
I started crying right there in the exam chair. Big ugly tears. The technician handed me a box of tissues.
For two years, I’d waited to hear anything that sounded like hope.
My first thought was to call Ashton. I actually had my phone in my hand. I’d said “Call” to the voice assistant.
Then I stopped.
Because I pictured something.
I pictured the day I’d be able to look right at him. Right at his face. His brown eyes. The little scar on his chin from the softball game. The way one side of his mouth went up higher than the other when he smiled.
I pictured looking right at him and saying, “Hi. I can see you.”
I wanted that moment to be perfect. I wanted to give it to him like a present. After everything he’d done for me. After two years of reading me bank statements and cleaning up spilled water and finding my earrings.
And honestly, part of me thought that maybe that moment would fix whatever had broken between us.
So I hung up before the call connected.
“Do you want us to send a copy of today’s report to your husband?” the receptionist asked on my way out.
“No,” I said. “I’ll tell him myself.”
Lila Hart is a dedicated Digital Archivist and Research Specialist with a keen eye for preserving and curating meaningful content. At TheArchivists, she specializes in organizing and managing digital archives, ensuring that valuable stories and historical moments are accessible for generations to come.
Lila earned her degree in History and Archival Studies from the University of Edinburgh, where she cultivated her passion for documenting the past and preserving cultural heritage. Her expertise lies in combining traditional archival techniques with modern digital tools, allowing her to create comprehensive and engaging collections that resonate with audiences worldwide.
At TheArchivists, Lila is known for her meticulous attention to detail and her ability to uncover hidden gems within extensive archives. Her work is praised for its depth, authenticity, and contribution to the preservation of knowledge in the digital age.
Driven by a commitment to preserving stories that matter, Lila is passionate about exploring the intersection of history and technology. Her goal is to ensure that every piece of content she handles reflects the richness of human experiences and remains a source of inspiration for years to come.