My family has simple, ordinary eyes. My mother, my father, my older sister, and me. Plain as the walls of a doctor’s office. Boring as reading the same book over ten times. My younger sister on the other hand, has eyes like no other. Just by having a conversation with her, you fall into a daze without even noticing and feel like you’ll never escape. Losing my train of thought while talking to her happens a countless amount of times.

They are a chestnut color with specks of deep green peeking out beneath. A little birthmark is settled in the bottom right corner of her right eye, like the cherry on top of a sweet caramel sundae. Her eyelashes are magically mysterious—twinkling with every move. Her eyes hold her past and her darkest secrets that are never shared. Her tears are sorrowful, yet calming and candid watching them flow and sparkle down her innocent cheeks.

My sister’s eyes, my sister’s eyes, casting spells by the second. Falling into a daze that you didn’t know existed.