My whole family has blue eyes; beautiful blowy blue eyes. My father’s eyes are like the ocean, deep and light blue colored. Always willing to help you out with a problem, but reprimanding if you make poor decisions. My mother’s eyes are like the winter sky, piercing yet clear and beautiful. Always making her feelings clear, with an unrelenting force. My younger brother’s eyes are like the Hawaiian sky, dark and warm. Innocent and welcoming, having not yet experienced the troubles of the world. My older brother’s eyes are like a lake, ever so passive. Never worried about where he’s going in life, just flowing with the current.
But my eyes are like a crashing wave, beautiful yet powerful. Never quite sure when the next wave is going to form and certain that something is always looming. Different every single day, but always the same composition. My eyes are something that holds me together, something to mask the pain or illustrate the happiness; something to show the world when everything else is falling apart. Changing with my moods and the people around me. My eyes are something to be proud of, a part of me that no one can take away.