When I was young, a woman from the church complemented my sisters' eyes. She said they were gorgeous blue eyes. Then she looked at me, and said, "Not you, Colleen, you have poopy brown eyes." And it hurt. I don't know why. She was a silly woman who wasn't thinking. When I got home, my mother reminded me that I had her eyes, and while I knew that was true, it didn't make me feel any better at the time.
Now I am older, and as I smiled at myself in the mirror tonight, my eyes crinkled in the exact same way my mom's always have. Mom, I wouldn't trade my eyes for all the blue eyes in the world. Thank you for giving them to me, I cherish them.
That's my mom with her first grand-daughter, Kendall. And the crinkles around her eyes make me feel loved, and connected. I didn't like them when they first started to show up, but I've grown up a bit since then, and I even sort of like them now.
No comments:
Post a Comment