Everybody in my family carries the trait of the Messenger eyes. Our eyes are what define us as a family. Family portraits express our similarities through our brown eyes familiar to our relatives who share the same trait. What is not seen in a portrait, however, is the individual behind the eyes.
My father’s lighter dark brown eyes paint a picture of a hardworking man. His tired eyes convey a life long of loving and working to put the bread on the table since he was young. Hardworking eyes growing weaker with age. My mother’s eyes, although dark brown at heart, shine bright green and glisten like the summer sun beaming down on the lake. Looking into them, I feel love. Nothing but love, inviting me in to cuddle and stare into them like I did when I was a child. My brother’s big dark brown eyes beat frighteningly powerful like a lion as he stares, and then fade into his smile as he shares his never ending jokes. Then there is my sister, who coined the term angel eyes. Lighter brown like my father, paint a picture of happiness and sparkle with certain hopefulness like a child’s eyes where you can tell she is always reaching for the stars. Then there is me. Dark, intense brown eyes like my uncle Russ. Full of passion for friends, family, and whatever obstacle comes my way. Our portraits suggest a family of similar characters on the surface, but underneath the comparable eyes lies five dancer’s dancing to their own beat.