My dad has eyes as dark brown as his favorite chocolate. They match the dark hair on his head. Looking into them, I listen to his anecdotes about his high school days.

My mom has hazel eyes. Open and inviting.  Eyes that are forgiveness when mean words slip out of my mouth. Her eyes are there for me even when I have been unkind.

My older brother Ben’s eyes are pools of honey when light shines on them. Acts of mischief dance as he tells me stories, wonderfully wild and unbelievable. His stories are too insane to be true. But I don’t care. I hang onto his words.

Josh, my oldest brother, has eyes the color of the ocean in Santorini. So blue they are unreal. Blue like the color of a cartoon character. Staring into them, I feel safe, knowing he can give guidance. Josh is the most mature 21-year old anyone knows. The blue of his eyes is calming, soothing music.

My eyes are blue or green. I have never been sure. Blue at the time I got my license, now senior year a time of transition, my eyes seem green. A blue like the sky changing from sunny to a storm. A blue grey. The green in my eyes, though is an Army green. My eyes are the epitome of unknown.