Wylie’s glassy eyes are like marbles the color of an evergreen forest. The eager eyes are hungry to discover knowledge to fulfill the ravenous brain. Graham, with eyes the color of chocolate cake, Graham’s eyes are like drooping shades. My eyes surprised like I won a trophy. My eyes, the color of grass, if they had a taste, would be of mint leaves.
But my mother’s eyes, my mother’s eyes, like sea glass, worn and wearied but agelessly beautiful. The color of the gray sky mirrored in her eyes reminds my father of the ocean. When my dad looks at my ma, his eyes are like smoldering coal. The sea reflecting from her eyes to his is remembrance of a previous time. But when he looks away, the lingering look of loss for the ocean is lonely.