My family has squinty eyes—my mother, my father, my two brothers, my three sisters, and me—the kind that get lost when taking a picture in the bright sun. The kind that when we smile seal shut like closing the corners of a Ziploc bag. They are shy yet send a message.
But my mother’s eyes, my mother’s eyes, are like the perfect blue glass marble, like a glistening diamond on a wedding ring, accepting of everyone, and telling a story. The story of a rough childhood where parents die young to where she is now with six kids and two more. Those eyes are the most gracious you’ll ever see, like a cloudless blue sky. A Crayon should be made to describe this color of blue.