When I stare at the sky or a blank page, I see things that no one else can see. I’m not talking about imagination or what have you.
I’m talking about my floaters.
What it comes down to is there’s a bunch of junk in my eyes. It’s been there for as long as I can remember.
I remember when I was younger the eye doctor saying the floaters would go away when I got older.
I wonder if I am older yet.
My floaters remind me of the lazy river at Noah’s Ark, “America’s Largest Waterpark,” according to the tagline. When I was a kid, my family went every summer. The intense and tall water slides were fun, banking left and right in snakely tubes, but my mom and I always had a special place for the lazy river. It wound slowly around the whole park, and you could get in or out at many places, or you could just stay put for hours and let the current take you round and round. Letting the afternoon float by in the lazy river, sitting atop a one-person tube, staring at the sky.
Floaters is a good name for them.