Deep Ocean Blue, by Leah
On the day you were born, your eyes were blue. Deep blue, the deepest blue of the ocean, the blue of the sky at midnight.
And then, your eyes turned green. With green eyes, I saw you learn the names of things and make some names up yourself. I saw you discover colors and shapes and textures and the warmth of the sunlight and the glow of the moonlight.
And then your eyes turned purple and I saw you believe in magic.
I saw you build homes for your fairies with twigs and fallen leaves.
I saw you staring at clouds and living with the cloud giants, eating marshmallow pie and watering your cumulous garden.
I saw you pour into your shiny black bowl:
a tea cup of juice
three pinches of pepper
the skins of five grapes, and
seven long slender blades of grass - first torn into pieces, then mashed into a paste.
I saw you sip your potion with a pinched face and lids squeezed tight over your purple eyes, but I saw you drink it all because you believed it would grant you the power to see the fairies you built your homes for.
One day, for just one day, your eyes turned red. It scared me then, but I now recognize it as the birth of your firece, Bold, driving, determined passion.
The next day, you stepped delicately into the ocean and stood, unmoving, looking out, away from the world. When I joined you and looked down into your lovely face, your eyes were a bright, cloudless sky blue.
When you got older, your eyes turned the brown of a thousand sands, dirst, and tree roots. The day your eyes turned brown you wrote me a story, and this is when I knew you knew you.
A few years later, you came to visit me and your eyes were grey. You were lost, and a little sad, but I knew your eyes would change again because in the high curve of your teary left eye, I saw a speck of gold.
Not too long after, you went on a trip far away, one that took you across big water and big land, and in your pictures you sent to me, your eyes were the color of sunshine and dandelions. Your smile was full and open and boundless and it made me smile too.
Today, your eyes are the dark, night time, deep ocean blue I first saw long ago.
Today you are sitting, no, lounging - sprawled out across your couch writing something new, eyes soft and fuzzy and unfocused as you breathe the new worlds you are building.
You glance up at me and comment on my eyes - one green as I discover you all over again,
and one gold as you, again, fill my heart with your special kind of joy, the joy that only you can bring me.
