I have my Grandmother’s Eyes

Thursday , 8, January 2015 2 Comments

When I was very young,

before I started school,

my father used to tell me I have my grandmother’s eyes.

I didn’t see it. I didn’t get it.

When I was seven, my parents got a divorce.

I wasn’t devastated. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t shocked – more relieved.

Before he left, he told me I have my grandmother’s eyes.

I didn’t see it. I didn’t get it.

When I was ten, grandma & grandpa celebrated their golden anniversary.

FIFTY YEARS!  Holy cow!

They got up to dance. I remember her smiling at him.

My father turned to me and said you have your grandmother’s eyes.

I didn’t see it. I didn’t get it.

When I was twenty-one, now a young woman, my grandmother died.

I didn’t want to go to her funeral.

Everyone will be sad and I barely know her, I explained.

I’m glad I went.

My aunt had a party for her. They told stories. My dad got drunk and cried.

I have never seen a grown man cry like that.

He sobbed and whispered to me, your mom raised you kids well.

You still have your grandmother’s eyes.

I still didn’t see it. I still didn’t get it.

 

Now approaching fifty, before I put on my face, I look deeply into the mirror.

I notice the beach days have not been good. I smile, because I do have my grandmother’s eyes.

2 thoughts on “ : I have my Grandmother’s Eyes”
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