May 21, 2009
My mother’s eyes are green. My brother’s are lighter than my father’s – sky blue. And me, my eyes fall somewhere in between. Mostly, they are green, but as you move away from the pupil, there is a distinct band of blue.

But my father’s eyes, my father’s eyes, like two artesian wells, like two sparkling sapphire stones, are the stars which guide ships through the night, are the stars in which I search for all life’s answers when I am feeling alone and far from home, the cool night breeze sending shivers through me and keeping me awake. The ships, the breeze, and Dad’s eyes, which are like stars.

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