Moon Eyes

Eyes are windows to the soul, someone once said. I believe they are that and much more. Looking at a person for the first time, how can their eyes, especially if they’re unusual, not be the first things you notice? When it’s me looking at me, I’m always thinking: are their eyes beautiful and full of light, or dark and mysterious? Are they blue, green, brown, hazel, or a mixture of many colors? What is written in a person’s eyes may be hard to read sometimes, but maybe if you pay attention long enough, you can define every emotion and get the whole story.1

People think my family and I have the same eyes. It’s not true however. Sure, we may all have the same color eyes and maybe even the same shade, but the tone and meaning for each of us is different. And of course, all our eyes cannot tell the same story. One of my friends told me that I have “London” eyes: exciting, colorful, foreign. I know they are sky blue with a white ring around each iris, making me have what another friend describes as “moon” eyes. I like to think that my eyes are interesting and light filled, but I’d have to ask another person to know for sure. Whatever they are though, I hope most of all that they tell a good story.2

My father’s eyes are powerful and give a commanding presence. Looking into them can make you shiver with fright, like you’re suddenly caught in a thunderstorm, but they can also make you stand tall and proud when he praises you. They are usually full of irritation, causing them to stare at you a weak, dull blue. But when he’s happy his eyes tend to twinkle and laugh, and appear to be a bit lighter. I know my father’s story is full of jokes. 3

My brother’s eyes play tricks on you. Along with his mood swings they switch drastically between intense light to shadow. Most of the time, they are dark. His story is just as intense as his eyes themselves, one I have read many times, but it’s written in his own cryptic language. It’s hard to read, and harder to understand.4

My sister and brother in law both have bright eyes that glow. I hope that they will pass that brightness into the eyes of their children, along with a story as great, but hopefully not as difficult, as their own.5

My moon eyes may be out of place amongst all this simple darkness and light. I’m a crystal in a field of ordinary rocks it seems, but it can’t seem to be avoided. I always seem to stand out. But all the same I know my eyes have something all their own. Maybe someday, I’ll find another pair of moon eyes staring back into mine. I hope one day I will. Someday, somewhere far away, I wonder if I may see the moon and the city of London in another young girl’s eyes.