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Arm of person painting on a canvas on an easel with a poppy filled landscape scene in the background


“Oh St Lucy, preserve the light of my eyes so that I may see the beauties of creation, the glow of the sun, the color of the flowers and the smile of children.”


These words are just a small part of a prayer I say to myself most every day. Taking each day, one step at a time, soaking in as much of the beauties of the world that I am able to. Firmly relying and trusting and hoping that the medical interventions that I endure every six to seven weeks will place a hold on this degeneration that I am enduring.

Appreciating the world around me

I find myself stopping and really looking as the scenes of my days flitter by. The colors of the flowers, the contours of their petals, the shadows of the trees, the spacing of the sidewalks, all of the ordinary attributes of a simple walk outside that now holds a much higher importance in my day. The setting sun over the backyard view, its colors lasting long after it slips under the horizon. These are the moments I long to hold on to, to treasure, to try to reproduce them, to create a reminder of the wonder of it all.

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Rediscovering hobbies

Even before my myopic degeneration diagnosis, I was rediscovering my passion for art. Be it drawing, or sketching, or coloring or painting, I was revitalizing an old passion of mine. Art. Retirement has a way of opening up the time to actually dive in and start this all anew. Our four “babies” have all grown up, flown the nest and now it was time to start over. And I did.

The irony

With an odd twist of irony or ill-fated luck, this degeneration reared its ugly head. This diagnosis was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to see it all so I could create it all. Was this going to stop this renewal of my art?

I just couldn’t accept or believe it would. So I pushed on. Signed up for lessons, bought more and more supplies, started delving into it all. I bought lights then brighter lights and the art began to flow.

Recreating memories

Most evenings, sometimes afternoons too, I’m situated at my desk with music playing, bright lights blazing, color pencils, graphite pencils, or paints splayed about working on that day’s latest project. I find myself peering close up to my subjects, working on minute details, recreating each and every single stroke just as I see it.

As I create each new piece, I am wondering if what I am doing is trying to hold on to those vibrate colors of the day. Recreating a memory of what I see, so that one day when just maybe things are not quite as vivid, quite as clear, I’ll have this image to hold on to. And in that memory, smile, thankful that I had that time, that chance to really see what was to be seen. Knowing that those memories will always be with me and make my heart happy.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.

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