Eyes Like Her

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Every single time she sees me, my dear friend M. comments on my eyes.  I can seriously go months without paying more than a moment’s attention to the color of my eyes but, as soon as I find myself in M’s company, I’m reminded of them.


She’s an artist, you see.  And so, when M. looks at me, she’ll say things like, “I just can’t get over the color of your eyes!  I’ve just never SEEN that color for eyes before.  It makes me want to paint them.  My fingers itch to mix the color…”


And this somehow elevates the deep teal color of my peepers to something mysterious and compelling.  I thank her and blush and feel a silly little pride in something over which I really had no control.


She tells me about a woman at her church.  She describes her like this:  “She’s in her 50′s, overweight, and she has this really long hair past her waist.  {{pause}}  She looks like a goddess.  I can’t stop looking at her.”


I can SEE this woman in my head and, because of M’s perspective, I am enchanted by her.  Left to my own devices, I’m not so sure my feelings would have been the same.  I may well have judged her weight… or, at the very least, not found it attractive.  I may have wondered why a woman in her 50′s would wear her hair so long.  I may have thought all manner of things before the idea of “goddess” crossed my mind.


But that’s what M. sees.


So I can’t help but think–


Though she never fails to be captivated by MY eyes… sometimes I wish I had hers.

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