Missing

I love catching people looking for their eyeglasses while their glasses are perched on top of their head. The escalating scramble of searching must be frustrating. They remember having just had them but can’t see them. It makes me laugh because they should be able to feel them sitting on their head—where they just put them.

I usually take my glasses off when I sit to write on the computer. I had finished up a few notes and tidied the office a bit. Once I was done, I headed to the living room. Wait, I need my glasses. I always keep them in front of my keyboard, but they weren’t there. Maybe I forgot to bring them in here. So, I went to check my nightstand. No dice.

I always keep my glasses in two or three places, so I checked them all again. Nothing. I wonder if I am one of those dummies, and they are on top of my head? I patted the top of my head. Nope. Ugh! I rubbed my temple and hit my glasses.

I am not one of those dummies who can’t find the glasses on top of my head. I am the extra-special kind who WAS WEARING THEM THE WHOLE TIME!

I’m unsure if I was too distracted, in too big of a hurry, too tired, or all the above. Someone watching me would have been very confused at the difficulty I had solving this problem. I wasn’t able to see the solution was right in front of me. Literally. In fact, it was a problem that had already been solved. I just didn’t notice.

Sometimes, the right path is the obvious path. Sometimes, the obvious path is hard to see when I am too close. I was doing, but not really paying attention. I probably would have dismissed someone telling me my glasses were on my face. If it isn’t what I anticipate, I might dismiss someone pointing out the logical next step.

Can I step back and pay more attention? Will I be open to simple, perhaps elegant, solutions even if they aren’t what I’ve planned? Am I willing to take an unexpected next step?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.