I remember the “smiling” eyes of my mother. Seemingly filled with a mixture of contradictions. A mix of pain and laughter; confusion and certainty; and loss and gain. All of this was captured by my young eye before she was able to blink it away.
I remember “lack” in my father’s eyes. Seemingly filled with a life that did not include me. A lack of warmth and sincerity; a lack of truth and care; a lack of touch. All of this was captured by my young eye before he was able to run out the door.
I remember “hate” in my brother’s eyes. Seemingly filled with a desire NOT to hate. A hate that burned so deep that I dare not get too close to be burned by the heat; a hate that drew me to him and away from him at the same time; a hate that lives to this day. All of this was captured by my young eye before he was able to become invisible.
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