My mother’s eyes are a soft set of jade stones sitting quietly above her rosy cheekbones. My sisters are her mother’s eyes after being rolled in a muddy puddle. My father’s eyes are sunken deep in his head, their topaz color portraying a compassionate and wise man. My brother’s eyes are his father’s eyes, but more like chocolate diamonds, sparkling with energy and life.

My eyes are not like theirs, they change their color in the light…but it is hard to tell. They hide behind squinting eyes. They are the kind of dark you would find as the color of a giant trunk of a tree in a dimly lit forest or the kind of light brown you would see watching a mud-filled lake shimmering in the sun. My eyes are not like my family’s eyes.