You can tell a lot about a person by their eyes. By the creases surrounding them, by the expressions shown through them, and by the unique smorgasbord of colors in them.
My mom has emerald eyes with splashes of yellow and brown. Her eyes look like nature to me. And they flawlessly describe her too. From her yellow joy to her green faith, my mom is a natural. Naturally happy, naturally loving, naturally faithful.
My dad has summer eyes. Slowly fading from the chlorine blue of a relaxing pool, to the deep navy of the ocean by the pupil. They speak a lot about who he is as a man. He's laid back and gentle at the surface, but as you get closer to his core you realize he's much deeper than he appeared. Deep with wisdom and faith and love.
My eyes are a perfect mixture of my parents' eyes and they describe me too. Around the exterior you'll find my dad's ocean, but draw closer to my core and you'll find my mom's nature. My eyes stand as a symbol of their love. Their life, instead of their lives. I like my eyes because they tell my story, and their's too.
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