In my family, we all have similar eyes. My dad. He has green and brown eyes, they look like moss growing on tree bark. They are more green around the middle of his eyes, by the pupil; they get darker around the edges. My dads eyes have little wrinkles on the outer corner. They feel safe and familiar to me. They show how hard he works. My younger brother. His eyes are just like our dads. They have the same pattern. Green towards the center, and brown around the edges. His eyes are more vibrant, more lively. He has much less life experience than our dad does, and it shows. My eyes. My eyes are more green, and a little blue, and a little brown. They are like the lake on a sunny day; the bottom is visible, with the mud and the grass easily seen through the water. They get brighter when I’m sad. I can’t say the same for my dad, he doesn’t show it when he’s sad. 

But my mom. My mom has bright blue eyes. They are like stained glass, almost see through. Sometimes we wonder why neither my brother or I have blue eyes like hers, but in my eyes are a little piece of her; shown through the blue of the lake. They are eyes you could never lie to, not easily at least.