I can't read normal print anymore. I get into trouble if I don't use my still very white and pristine cane. Friends are finally noticing. My husband and older daughter have to change how they relate to me, all of our expectations and needs repositioning like bumper cars. I am no longer a technicality, no longer a liar, no longer getting away with fraud.
Perfect strangers can tell.
People rarely tell me anymore that they wouldn't be able to discern my visual disability if they didn't know. Anna tells me she wishes I could drive like other moms. Sometimes she seems to get revenge when I drop something by being vague or off-hand about its whereabouts. Sometimes she demands that I find something tiny on the floor, or that I look for one of her small toys. I cried when I came to the realization that I will most likely not be able to read anything but the clearest picture books to Rachel when she gets older.