My Dad’s eyes are small, like copper pennies sitting on his face. His glasses hide his macchiato brown irises. Small, brown and hidden.


My Mom’s eyes are alert and ready. When she laughs, they squint into saucers. They are hazel, green with glops of brown mixed in.


My brother Max has eyes much like my father. Small, brown and hidden. Yet they capture your attention, like a red sweater thrown into a pile of jean jackets.


My eyes are a combination of my parent’s eyes. Squinty, brown and alert. A dark green-brown, like melted mint chocolate chip ice cream.


My brother Mason’s eyes are by far the best. Large, brown and capturing. Like the sound of thunder, they surprise you. So big and bold on such a sweet young face. Oh how I wish i inherited the gene.