I always assumed my eyes came from the other one. Though mine weren't almond-shaped emeralds chiseled into alabaster skin.
Now I see you and I see myself a little more clearly.
And I see that look and it haunts me.
It is knowing. Almost seductive. In control.
It seems to have little to do with the babe. Your first grandchild. Who lived on the other side of the planet. Who was named for the other one.
Who were you then?
I don't really know. If stories are anything to go by, you were much as you were when I knew you. Perhaps a little more able-bodied (although I know you would protest that).
You didn't have a "young life". I remember that too.
You were controlling. Prone to catastrophising. Self-obsessed. Perennially anxious.
You were also generous. Stylish. Handsome. Funny.
What was about this moment, this moment of being seen, that caused you to smile in such a satisfied way?
I see you here. And I see myself in your physiognomy.
But I also see how hard this little apple-of-your-eye is working to roll far far far from the family tree.
This week, I am responding to the prompt I seek as part of the Inner Excavate-along hosted by Liz Lamoreux. There is so much beauty to be found here! Do join us...