My family is full of brown eyes, each their own. Mine, the darkest―bitter like a strong coffee. My father’s chocolate, a little lighter and sweet. Mom, Kailey, and Drake are a honey like hazel―glared by sunlight even on a rainy day. But Ashlie’s eyes contrast. In a family of soil eyes, hers are the ocean. Frosty blue bursting from her pupils―hues of green.

Dad’s genes blessed her with the family’s “famous Davis” eyes. You sense sadness in her storm of gray flooding, washing the blue out. You sense anger in the deep blue screaming―annoyed, flustered. You sense happiness as the storm clears reveal relieved royal blue. For years I envied her blue eyes, but growing into my own, I now accept and adore being a brown eyed girl.