I like my eyes. It hasn’t always been that way but, then again, I haven’t always understood what they were really for: that part has definitely changed with time.
I like their color. A little copper, a little hazel, a little brown. I like the way my husband comments on how much he loves them. I also like that I get to dance around the house whenever “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison comes on as though it were written just for me.
I like the way they see the world around me. I’m thankful for perspective and my skill for intuitive and careful observation. I appreciate the wisdom that has come with experience and that I’ve learned that there is usually far more to most people than meets the eye.
I like the way they betray me. They keep me honest because it is impossible for people to look directly into them and not see the truth about what is happening in my heart and mind. Those who dare get close enough and bold enough to do so will never have to wonder where I stand on any issue.
I like that they are weakening a bit-that I need glasses. I’ve never minded how I look in glasses and wearing them reminds me that our vision is only as clear as the filter we look through at any given time.
I like the way I see myself these days. I’m a little less rebellious and a little more compassionate than I once was. I like that I can look in the mirror and know that I love the woman staring back at me. I see her worth and her strengths and everything she’s walked through and the beauty of her future.
Yes. Absolutely. My eyes are definitely my favorite physical trait.