They are not the highest-functioning part of my body, what with needing glasses since I was twelve.
They are not the first thing you notice when you meet me: many other aspects are so much… bigger.
They are deep-set in my skull, with modest eyelashes and wispy eyebrows. They are a very common shade of brown (chocolate, not golden). They do not change colors with my moods, or remind people of the sea, or anything super-cool like that.
But they are, without fail, the most expressive feature of my face. I can hold the muscles of my mouth and eyebrows completely still (and have, when my students are working my last nerve), but nothing stops the emotions radiating out from my eyes at any given moment.
I can wink with either one of them. I can cross them a couple different ways. They squint when I smile. They dance when I am teasing. They fill with tears at the slightest provocation, whether it’s a sad song or a sweet commercial or a baby or a puppy or a penguin or a really tiny shoe. My eyes say everything.
I actually like my eyes. You know… when they’re not squinted shut, and you can find them.