My eyes. Eyeballs. Ojos. Crazy ojos. Light brown ojos. Honey ojos?
I used to want green eyes. Green eyes so that I could be pretty. Green eyes so they wouldn't be quite as commonly revered as blue eyes. See, I thought blue eyes were overrated, and the second-to-last thing I wanted was to have overrated eyes. And the last thing I wanted was to be underrated, and I thought people (mostly boys) hated brown eyes. But then my sister told me that the pattern in my irises looks like sunflowers. Sunflowers! Not poop! Sunflowers! Brown sunflowers. Not dead sunflowers. Brown sunflowers. And to this day I love having my brown eyes.
My eyes are like Daddy’s eyes. Daddy’s eyes that earned him the nickname “Hound Dog.” Mine are not quite as hounddoggish as his, or as beautiful, unfortunately. They kind of tilt down toward my cheeks on the outside corners, and there is a lot of space between my eyelid and brow, and the skin that’s there tends to slump over the outermost half of each eye, hence the “hound dog” appearance. I am lucky to only get bags under them when I am extremely tired, and even after crying they don't stay puffy too long.
I can cross my brown, slightly-hounddoggish eyes. Pair this up with my funny fat-lip face and even the grumpiest kid will probably laugh. I can open my eyes really wide and it kind of frightens people sometimes. I can leave one eye crossed and the other one normal. I can put them both toward the back of my head so you can't even see the pupils. I can shake my ojos so it looks like they're having an earthquake.
My eyes love to be closed sometimes because they like it when I get to rest. They like it when I let my ears and nose and imagination take over and carry the sensory load that sometimes exhausts the poor little eyes. They especially love to feel sunshine on their lids. But then my eyes love to be open because they like to see beautiful things like green trees covering mountains, autumn leaves, lilies in the spring and snow in the winter. And beautiful art and smiles and handsome men and cute puppies and happy families and loyal friends and baby feet with baby toenails.
My eyes love to see other eyes, to lock with them and share in the moments where those eyes are sad or scared or worried, or just so happy that they can't hold back tears. Most of all they like to see the way people love. They love seeing the small gestures of affection: enormous hugs, Sacrament Meeting back scratches, Eskimo kisses, a friendly kick in the rear, a smile for no apparent reason, old people holding hands, young people holding hands. Of course, they get really jealous of people holding hands too, but mostly they just love it.
My eyes can help me perceive all the temporal beauty in the world, and with the help of my heart they see the physically imperceptible: goodness, joy, and love.
My eyes are one of my greatest blessings, for they allow me to see all of the others.
How are your headparts a blessing in your life?
You're a heck of a writer. I have enjoyed reading your blog posts. When I was younger I also wanted eyes of a different color. In fact, when I say "younger" I really mean up until just a few years ago. I have always liked brown-eyed girls, but only in more recent years have I come to appreciate the color of my own eyes. In the same fashion as what you thought about boys, I always assumed girls wanted a blue/green eyed guy. I have heard many girls say they love blue-eyed guys, but I have heard very few go vocal over brown eyes. I have never really noticed your father's eyes outside of the fact that they are sort of hound-like, but yours are very pretty brown eyes, and not so hound-like. I'd like to see you keep up the posts; go brown-eyed us!
ReplyDeletenice honey!
ReplyDeletelovelovelovelovelooooove your sunflower eyes :)
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