Eyes

Everybody in our family has different eyes. My dad's eyes are stormy and cold, all mysterious and muddy brown. And me, my eyes are big. They always seem anxious and friendly. Ashley's eyes are light and smooth. She is dangerous but pretends to be sweet. Phillip's eyes are mischievous-trick you into believing anything. And Anna, who is the youngest, has eyes that are innocent. But my mother's eyes, loving and calm, like brown coffee and hot cocoa so nice and warm, patient and just beautifully sweet, sweet to look into her eyes when she's tightly holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm feeling of hugs and warm kisses, is the feeling when she makes room for you on her side of the couch still warm with her skin, and you talk to her the sun outside shining and Dad playing. The playing, the sun and Mama's eyes that are loving. Nayeli Y. Guzman Inspired by Sandra Cisneros