Lo's Body Part

If I could take a picture (no digital camera yet), I'd take a picture of my eyes. They're a complicated body part for me because their color is so, well, difficult to ascertain. Depending on lighting and what I wear (which I imagine has to do with reflection of light) they can look blue, green, or grey.

My father says they are his father's eyes. (My father has blue eyes, my mother and sister have green eyes. I never met my grandfather -- I am named for him, actually -- and there are no close-up color photographs of him where I can see his eyes.)

My sister and I also both have the same rather odd feature: there's a thin circle of yellow flecks between the black pupil and the blue/green/grey iris.

All of these quirks could be beautiful, I suppose, in the hands of a writer or an artist. Yet I have always felt uncomfortable that it is so hard for me to answer the question "What color are your eyes?" Because I cannot answer the question without looking in a mirror to see how they appear that day, and that feels strange. I have taken a stab at the question and answered "blue" or "green," only to have the person squint at my face and correct me. "What color are your eyes?" should be an easy question. I did not know what to write for my driver's license (I believe it says "blue.")

I don't particularly care whether my eyes get passed on to the next generation. I'm fascinated by genetics, and I feel strongly that brown eyes are a more desirable trait than blue/green. I am more sensitive to sun than my brown-eyed friends. Also: my vision is nowhere near perfect (I'm nearsighted and have had glasses or contacts since I was nine years old). My eyes do not always do what they need to do, and they are confusing.

But Co once called them sunflowers, and that helped me love my strange eyes.

Someday when we do have a digital camera, I will post a picture.