Today, being blind does not scare me. It hasn’t scared me for more than a decade. I must remind myself that this aspect of my existence, which is like any other as far as I am concerned, stands out for others like a baby on a battlefield—and is terrifying to them. I have to remind myself that years ago I, too, was terrified.Of course I can remember the fear. But I remember it the same way you might remember cowering in your bed at night as a child, frightened of the monster under your bed. You now understand there never was a monster, that your fear was irrational, self-imposed, the product of your imagination. You can recall feeling terror back then, but when you lay down tonight, you will not be afraid, not of nighttime monsters, at least.That’s how I feel about blindness. It is the monster that didn’t really exist. Odds are that you find this hard to believe. I understand every detail and every practicality of blindness. I’m an expert at being blind. It is familiar, comfortable, normal, routine. Still, you likely don’t believe me when I tell you it isn’t that bad. I’m the exasperated parent, stomping …