From the time I was a teenager, I could remember laying in my mother's bed staring into her mirror headboard looking at my eyes over the top of my pillow. My eyes... light brown almost yellow in the sunlight. My eyes... have seen so much. Pain, joy, mundane routine, love, hate... emotions that we all go through. I often stop and look at my eyes in my bathroom mirror... who are you? Are "you" still there? Then I see it, my brown eyes. Now 40 there are lines and bags. Today they are sad eyes. But in those eyes are my life. My memories.
I'm heavy (no not a pun for my 240lb physique...) - I'm heavy hearted. Actually, I'm heavy eyed. I see the eyes of my youth and wonder what happened? How did I get here? How did this happen to me? How did I let it happen?
Too many questions. Do I care about the answers? I sit here in my bedroom and look around at 10 years of marriage (or my mess, whatever you call it). What will my eyes see when I'm dissolving this life? Can my eyes filter the pain and see the bright future ahead?
Too many questions.
No comments:
Post a Comment