Kindred Spirits

I thought the nose ring gave it away—she was just another teenager. I couldn't imagine how she could help me

- ROBERTA MESSNER

A friend invited me to her optician's to help her pick out a pair of glasses. "You'll love this place," she said. "Everyone treats you like family there."

I had a love-hate relationship with eyeglasses. After a lifetime of craniofacial surgeries to remove tumors caused by a genetic condition, I had terrible vision.

I got my first pair of glasses in elementary school. Coke bottle lenses. Weird-shaped frames to fit my head. You can imagine what other kids said.

A brilliant and compassionate optician named Mark Morris fashioned new glasses for me out of the latest materials when I finished nursing school in my early twenties. The high-tech material enabled the frames to accommodate my head. Not super stylish, but at least they didn't embarrass me.

Mr. Morris gave me five extra pairs of glasses when he learned he had terminal cancer. He didn't want me to run out. Ten years and several surgeries later, the prescription in those glasses was out of date.

All my life, I'd dreamed of owning stylish glasses that fit my face just right and expressed my personality. That magic combination just didn't seem to exist. "Sure, I'll go to the optician's with you," I said to my friend, though without much enthusiasm.

Later, we pulled up to a brick building with a green sign: "Sturgeon's Optical."

While my friend browsed, I drifted over to a case of colorful frames more stylish than I could imagine wearing. A bright blue pair caught my eye.

While my friend was busy on the other side of the store, I slipped on the blue pair.

"Ooh, they're perfect on you!" a voice cooed beside me. "They match your beautiful blue eyes."

She drew out the word beautiful as if she really meant it. I turned to see a teenager in a black jacket smiling at me. But I almost missed the smile because above it there was a nose ring.

I glanced around for an employee who could give me a professional opinion.