One more worry

Here I lie in my bed, staring out the window at the sky. The sky is very blue, not clumpy gray like before.

My head does not budge from its position on this mattress, which is comfortable. I scan the blue sky for clouds.

As I’m doing this, there is a spot – a speck, a mote, a something – that moves with my vision. I mean to say it goes in the same direction my eyes go and at the same speed. There. I roll my eyes upwards and it moves up. I roll my eyes down and to the right and it moves down and to the right.

It is not a bird.

It’s not a flying saucer. Nothing like that.

No, there is something on my eyeball.

I cannot look at it directly because it moves with my focus. Of course it does.

Think, Naz, think. I know. Yes, I’m going to rub my eyes in the hopes I can rub it away.

…

I cannot rub it away. Not just that, but the longer I lie here, looking, the more specks I notice. Now a squiggly little line, like a cursive capital L, at the right edge of my vision. Now something like a snowflake over on the left there.

My eyes must be filthy! Collecting trash and dust for years like two little brown landfills. Probably there are little hairs, scraps of paper, perhaps even those long lost car keys floating around in there.

I blame Ammi and Abbu. Growing up, I was never warned of this. I was never told, “Good night, deary. Now don’t forget to wash your eyeballs before bed.”

What a mess I am…