We are known as the family of eyes.

Each set is different, a trademark on our faces.My fathers eyes, are like two oceans, it’s hard to make direct eye contact because you don’t want to get lost at sea.Relaxed and reliable. My mothers, just the opposite, they’re brown, with gold speckles of light near the pupil, hers are like looking into the sky on a crisp, dark, starry night.Calm and collected.

Kaley, my sister has clear, dark blue eyes, with long blond eyelashes. Every blink, you feel a gust of wind.  They look as though they are made out of angel wings, and the clearest of skies. Bright and blissful. Keersi,  hers are anything but ordinary. My sisters eyes are dark jade, almost black. They are two daggers, holding all your secrets, looking into your soul. Hers are searing. They know the unknown. Deep and daring.

My eyes, my eyes twinkle. They glow and glitter. They are sparkly and sympathetic. Instead of telling  your secrets, they hold them. They are secretive. My mother used to tell me they were my trademark as a baby. Tears make them more powerful, they glow with rage. Brightest on the clearest days, and crystallize in the gloomiest hours. But don’t be fooled, my eyes are not the windows to my soul, they close when I’m beatific. And open when I am hidden inside like a small child, afraid of the dark. They can lighten up any day, even the darkest ones and care for those in which tears have fallen.

The family of eyes, oh what a name.