Cody started life weighing 24 ounces.
Due to extreme prematurity, our son had eye surgery to prevent blindness. As a result of the surgery, he lost peripheral vision in his right eye. And his near sightedness would mean glasses and close monitoring by an ophthalmologist for the rest of his life.
Such a small price to pay, in our opinion, compared to the alternative.
Cody wore glasses with great pride, making it abundantly clear to his little brothers that Mommy and Daddy also wore glasses, and wasn't it a shame that they didn't have any themselves. This usually prompted a round of begging from his siblings that it was only fair they get glasses, too.
Then kindergarten happened.
One day, a couple of kids at recess derailed Cody's bright outlook on having glasses in his possession. One boy said, your glasses look stupid, Cody. Another kid yanked them off his face and bent them.
Cody was a timid, small child. Seeing tears well up in his eyes, as he recounted the event, wrung our hearts dry.
Just recently though, something changed his outlook.
It was the morning of Valentine's Day. I shut off the alarm and groped around in the dark until I found my glasses. I donned them and without turning on the light, blindly made my way to the bathroom. I flipped the bathroom switch, and there I discovered why it was extra dark in my bedroom.
My husband, Stephen, had placed two red heart stickers on my glasses. And plastered all over the mismatched antique mirrors above our bathroom basins were the same stickers.
"VALENTINE," my husband had scrawled on one mirror, "I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH!"
In one mirror was drawn a stick arm with a hand pointing west. And in the other mirror was the same thing pointing east. I was chuckling under my breath, so as not to wake the rest of the household, while staring at my reflection.
I penned my response in the mirror, "Thanks to you, sweetie, I've got hearts in my eyes!"
While dressing Cody for school, he whispered, "Mom?"
"Yes, big boy?" I whispered back.
"You got hearts on your glasses."
"Yep, I sure do."
科迪出生時僅僅24盎司。
因為是極度早產，我們的兒子做了眼部手術以防止失明。手術結果是，他失去了右眼的周邊視覺。右眼近視就意味著他終身都需要戴眼鏡，終身都需要有眼科專家的密切監察。
相對于失明，我們認為這點代價實在是微不足道。
科迪極為驕傲地戴上了眼鏡，那種驕傲勁讓他的弟弟們一眼就能看出：爸爸、媽媽都戴眼鏡，而他們卻不戴，簡直有點不像話。于是弟弟們時常輪番懇求也要戴眼鏡，否則不公平嘛。
轉眼該上幼兒園了。
有一天課間休息時，兩個小男孩徹底摧毀了科迪對戴眼鏡所抱有的自豪感。一個男孩說，科迪，你的眼鏡看上去好蠢。而另一個竟猛地把科迪的眼鏡摘下，把它弄彎。
科迪個頭小，生性靦腆。他回家跟我們說起
這件事時，眼淚直在眼睛里打轉轉，我們的心里好難受。
但就在最近，有件事改變了他對眼鏡的看法。
那是情人節的早晨。鬧鐘一響，我趕緊按住，然后在黑暗中摸索著找到我的眼鏡。我戴上眼鏡，沒有開燈，摸黑走進衛生間。輕輕按下衛生間的電燈開關，我才明白過來為什么臥室是那樣出奇地黑暗。
我先生斯蒂芬，在我的眼鏡片上分別貼了兩個紅色心形貼畫。而在我們衛生間盥洗池上方那些大小不一的古董鏡子上也都貼滿了紅心。
“我的愛，我這么地愛你!”我先生在一面鏡子上潦草地寫道。
在一面鏡子上畫有一只伸直的胳膊，手指向西邊。而另一面鏡子上也畫有一只伸直的胳膊，手指向東邊。瞅著鏡中的自己，我使勁忍住不笑出聲來，怕弄醒丈夫和孩子。
我也在鏡子上寫下了我的回復：“謝謝你，親愛的。我的眼里滿是心!”
在給科迪穿衣服準備去學校時，他低聲說：“媽媽?”
“嗯，我的大男孩?”我低聲應和。
“你眼鏡上有紅心。”
“沒錯，有啊。”
“你真有意思，媽媽，”他說了句，眼里放著光芒。我們倆鉆進小貨車的駕駛室里，又有好多心將我們包圍。方向盤上貼有紅心，后視鏡上有一個，鑰匙上有一個，換檔桿上有一個，我的皮夾上還有一個。我那不知憂愁為何物的老公真是大獻殷勤。
我把那兩顆心從我的眼鏡上揭下，遞給科迪。他小心翼翼地把它們貼到自己的眼鏡片上，去學校的一路上他都是笑瞇瞇的。
我在校門口停下來。
“拿上你的書包，寶貝，”我說。
“媽媽，我能戴著紅心上學嗎?”
我心里斗爭了一會兒。如此當眾“表演”可能一鳴驚人，也可能一敗涂地。但是科迪眼里流露出的懇求讓我不再猶豫。我怎能剝奪有可能讓他開心的一個大好機會呢?
“我看沒有什么不可以的，小伙子。”
我又把兩個紅心貼在我自己的鏡片上，然后我們一起走進學校，手拉著手，穿過走廊中的人群，朝他的教室走去。
“哈!快看科迪-奧利弗。他眼鏡上有紅心!”一個人看見了，嚷了起來。
“啊，看科迪!多酷呀!”另一個發現者也嚷著，指著我們咯咯地笑。
科迪靦腆地微笑著，緊緊地抓住我的手。
當我們來到教室門口時，同學們圍住科迪，而我看到他在努力克制他的笑容，那是我在他臉上看見過的最開心的笑容。
“真有意思!眼鏡上有心!”
“科迪，讓我戴一下好嗎?”
一個小姑娘扯了扯我的衣袖。“您是奧利弗太太?”
“是啊。你有什么事?”
“我要是戴眼鏡就好了。”
就在那時，我一點也不再懷疑，科迪又重新拾回了他的自信。
很簡單，就是讓眼里有心。
