Everyone in our family has different eyes. All different in the best of ways, describing who we are. My father’s eyes mixed with colors, just like his personality. Hints of green over there, hazel over here, and gray in between, each describing his personalities, the green being his strict side, the hazel being mr. outgoing, and gray representing his wisdom. Mother’s eyes brown, brown as they should be, not to dark, not to light; just as they should be. Filled with care, joy, and compassion. Hunter my brother the worst eyes of them all. Brown as can be dark and large, yet filled with hints of lightness here and there. Like him as an older brother mean and cruel yet still has his times of lightness here and there.

Then there is me, my eyes are my pride and joy, the only attention getter I need. Like looking into a glacial cave, or a vast blue sea. My eyes, my eyes blue as can be, there filled with laughter, sorrow, and love. They change their tone as I change my mood, like fifty shades of blue, my eyes are so different, so different from the rest of my family.