Jan 29, 2018
Mine from Him
Grandpa has blueberry eyes. Each one, an entire green-grey ocean, spindled with white arachnid sea foam lines.
Grandpa has forgiveness eyes. For the times the onions make me cry, and I blame depression on a vegetable.
Grandpa has eyes that speak. They say things like,
“Gone Fishing,”
“Royal Flush,“ and
“Jesus Crumps” (an old-timer’s Belgian cursing phrase).
You see, Grandpa has my eyes. And I borrowed mine from him twenty-eight years ago this February, using them ever since...
To perceive.
To forgive.
To speak.