Mara

Perfect Equation
My brother’s eyes are blue as a crystal reflection. He has my grandma’s eyes. My grandpa had dark solemn eyes, the kind that make you think of a puppy begging for the last scrap of bacon. My mom has brown eyes too.

My little brother Enly, he has dark brown eyes. The chestnut kind. They are like warm milk, inviting. Koen’s eyes are dark. Dark like rotting wood in September. That kind of dark. They say brown is a dominant color. I think they are right.

My eyes are green. Not grass green but the green of the ocean right after a storm. The water will be churning like a boiling pot and the colors blending together. You can’t tell the blue or green apart anymore, because they aren’t. They aren’t apart anymore. They’ve become one giant mix, like the stormy grey sky. The perfect blend of family. The perfect equation inside of me.

I like my eyes. They make me me. I don’t have the repetitive brown eyes; I’m not like all of them. I’m different. They say brown is a dominant color. I proved them all wrong. The perfect equation inside of me.