My name is Grace Carlyle.  On my 95th birthday, I was diagnosed with a detached retina that left me blind in my right eye.  I have had macular degeneration in both eyes for several years.  At present, my vision is limited to a shimmering halo of light and blurs, surrounding a large black spot. 

I wear hearing aids, but they only seem to exaggerate the sounds I don’t want to hear, and do little to help me understand people’s voices, or the TV.  Not hearing the TV isn’t so important since I can’t see it anymore, but I would so enjoy being able to hear audio books.

Because I can’t see or hear well, my days are filled with snoozing, -and remembering.

My youngest grandson wants to be a writer, and that’s how I came by the idea for this story.  When he’s around, and I am reminiscing, he takes notes.  If you are reading this, I guess his aspiration and my little plan, worked. 

I wanted to tell my story so people would have a better appreciation for the simple sweetness of their lives today, and maybe think a little about what the future may hold in store before it gets here. 

Life goes by so very quickly – just ask anyone my age.  What I hope for you, is that in some small way, I will help you take every ounce of life and treat it like the gold it is, and help you consider how fast we humans consume each morsel of our time until it’s gone.  My mother had a saying with which she ended her nightly prayers.  She would say, “One more night, one less night.”  It was years before I understood what that meant.

In the beginning

My sister Adele and I were born in the upstairs back bedroom in our little house in Coalville, Pennsylvania.  The year was 1913.  Mom had six children in all.  Adele and Monica passed on before I had a memory.  Having been born several years before me, Bobby, Charlie, and Ray were always there.

Our little coal mining town was a pleasant enough place to grow up.  All miners are poor by trade, but their homes are always spot clean.