My family--my mother, my father, my older sister, and me--we have glorious eyes, ones that illuminate when exposed to laughter, that twinkle when they receive a wave, that have pupils which pulsate in the light and in the darkness of night. They are like glowing stars, windows to the soul that shine and dazzle, that prolong the radiating beams emanating from a friend’s smile.

My mother’s eyes have an unseen, compelling depth. You get lost in their beautiful moonlike complexion; they speak only of purity, truth, and the beauty of love. My father’s eyes are just slightly less polished, always hard at work. They possess a discipline and dignity like that of a racing meteorite, that same stunning, dusty crimson brown with a streak of valuable life experience. My sister’s eyes are two luminous nebulae: the pleasingly graceful clouds of the universe beyond us, dotted with sophisticated sparkles. And my eyes… they are the sun, ginormous and full of life, just waiting for that moment when they can make someone’s day brighter.