Closed for a third of your life, eyes contribute to the differences in personality. My mother, my brother, and I have brown eyes. Not a light brown, though. Our eyes are dirt, like the fur of a bear. Each of us are outgoing, not afraid to state our opinions. Brown eyes that are passed by when looking at things. Like dirt, unnoticed.

My sister’s eyes, my sister’s eyes, green like the suits on soldiers. Close to grey. When someone looks into her eyes, he or she looks like children getting candy. Her eyes, dramatic. Her eyes are the bad singing in the car -- obnoxious, but enjoyable. Her eyes -- bold and beautiful.

My dad’s eyes are like my sister’s eyes. Green, but hazel, too. Depending on the light, my dad’s eyes are suits on soldiers or my dad’s eyes are the wood in the middle of the tree. He is shy when he wants to be, he is outgoing when he wants to be. He’s smart and silly. He reads and writes, laughs and plays, and he’s always busy. He’s optimistic -- he always has a list of things to do, but he finds the best ways to do those things. He has the eyes, the personality, everybody wants, changing, like he can. Like dirt, soldiers, and wood.