The Bub

I remember the day Dad and I took you to the eye hospital when you were probably four. Your preschool clued us in that something might be wrong with your eyes. We went into the examination room with the doctor. I had been wearing glasses for astigmatism and going to the eye doctor was always a nervous experience for me. He sat you on a machine with a raised seat and had you read the letters on the opposite wall. I can't remember which eye he did first, but it was a quick exam. You basically stopped after the big E. I remember thinking, "O my god, my sister is blind. How could we not have known?" Your other eye was better in comparison, but not great either. That was the beginning of your days with those chunky blue-framed glasses glued onto your face - Bub as everyone knew her.