When I was a child, I cried. A lot. Well, maybe not a lot, but more than some to be sure. I also laughed a lot. Let's just say that I was relatively free with my emotional expression. My sister, RVB, was less so... she tended to be more guarded, and I often wondered what she was thinking about or feeling. And many times, I'd cry because of some silly spat with her.
"Let me in!" I would beg
"Leave me alone!" her answer from behind the closed door
"Let me in!" I would plead again, and then
[...silence...]
When we eventually made up at the end of the argument, or after I had cried on her shoulder for some other reason, she'd always try to make me smile by saying that my eyes looked like "sunshine eyes". Apparently after crying, my eyelashes would stick together, making four or five big thick gobs of lashes that looked to her like diminishing rays around my eyes.
I liked the idea that I reminded her of the sun. It always worked to coax a smile from me.
Today I'm comforted with the idea that somehow my presence can brighten the day of the people that I'm around. I want to be an encouragement to those I'm with, sorta the way that a bright sunny February day is here in Chicago after days or weeks of cloudy, cold, snowy weather. A warm sun comes in and melts the disgusting gray sludgy snow and tempts brave Chicagoans to venture out in short sleeves, despite the thermometer still hanging below 50 degrees. That's what happened today. The nice warm spell even tempted me to throw open my windows to let in some fresh air... brrr! Maybe a little early for that.
So, that's the kind of eyes that I want to have, that's the kind of woman I want to be. Eyes that "see beauty, even in the common things of life". A woman who seeks out the beauty. Who looks into people's hearts and finds light. Who shines with warmth, even when a place, heart, or situation seems impossibly cold and dreary. I want to bring joy, the way a warm February day brings joy to the Windy City.
Be warm, friends.
3 comments:
Hooray! I can definitely hear my brave friend's voice in this post -- a little tentative, a little excited, but very much herself.
I'm so pleased you're putting yourself out here. It will get easier.
(Your post tags amused me.)
Okay. I can't stand these things. But as RVB I have to correct the origin of this name.
It wasn't because she CRIED all the time, but at the pool in the summer, she would just beam with joy and run around with glee. Her eyelashes would stick together like sunshine beams like a cartoon sun picture when they got wet. Thus, the eyelashes with the joy radiating from every pore in her body made me think of the sun.
She didn't cry all that much. And I wasn't that non-expressive.
Wow. That's a much better version than mine.
Frankly, either way I'll buy it, since you seem to remember these things much better than I do... (ie, the details of my squishy fat baby hands pressed into the mesh of my playpen).
And I didn't say you were NEVER expressive. It's just that by comparison, I was a bit over the top at times. True? Yes, true.
Glad that you're visiting. Come back often, I'll tell all the good stories.
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