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It was a normal Tuesday.

I didn’t realize you were gone for good until I got out of the shower.

Looking around, I could hardly see. My eyes blurred; I couldn’t even see my face in the mirror.

It happened so suddenly! One minute you were there, the next you were gone, and here I was, left to go about my day – my life! – as normal.

I tried to think about how I could even go to work. I have to photograph a soccer game, a veterinarian at the shelter, go to a meeting. How could I focus?

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Opening them again, my eyes still blurred. I knew it was going to be a long day.

And then, I started to blame you. Something wasn’t right. I knew it. Had I done something wrong? No, I did everything as usual. How could I not have noticed that something was amiss, or inside out, or backwards?

I rubbed my eyes, but still, they weren’t any clearer. With no backup plan, no other options, I just had to carry on my day as normal. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, and how’d I’d move on.

I’d have to start all over. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but I’d been in this position before, only last time, I was ready. I was ready to toss out the old, and bring on the new. I was ready to start all over.

But now, I was unprepared. I tried to put on my makeup, squinting at myself in the mirror, but I went about it absentmindedly. Where did you go? How could you have slipped out without a trace, without so much as a fight? How could I have not seen this coming?

This already wasn’t easy. But I was already starting to feel like I could do this. I could get through this day. And tomorrow was a new day. I could look forward to that. I could look forward to a fresh start, waking up with clear eyes, and a clear mind, leaving this headache of a day behind.

But I’ll never stop wondering where exactly I lost my left eye’s contact that normal Tuesday morning — so much for what they say. Hindsight is not twenty-twenty when you lose a contact.

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Katharine Lotze
Katharine Lotze is a photojournalist and columnist at the Signal, and can be found photographing daily life in Santa Clarita, or writing personal essays about her own daily life.
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