Everybody in our family has different eyes. My dad’s eyes are a frozen lake, clear blue and cold. My mom’s eyes are a grassy field in the spring time, green, alive and blowing in the wind. My sister and my eyes are a combination of the cold frozen lake and grassy green field, with dark, wavy blue water around the edges and an island of overgrown grass in the middle. But our eyes, our eyes are still different. My eyes have more icy water around them, engulfing the green, my sister has more green grass in the center, overpowering the water.
But my dog’s eyes, my dog’s eyes, they are nothing like our eyes. My dogs eyes are warm and alive, like glowing embers burning in each iris. When she was first born her eyes were like emeralds full of euphoria, we had never seen anything like it. As she grew and got older, her eyes morphed into crisp copper flakes full of ferocity. Her eyes resemble a smoldering fire while our eyes are frigid from the never ending cycle of winter and spring occurring behind the lenses. My dog’s eyes, on the other hand, only know the seasons of summer and fall.  I am envious of her eyes, because they are the exact opposite of mine.