Everyone in my family has different eyes--some the same basic color, but each with intricate detail and design.  My sister’s eyes are brown, laced with beautiful streaks of emerald green, and hints of glistening gold.  She has confusing eyes that no one can seem to figure out.  My eyes are like a mood ring.  The deep green and glowing yellow tell a story that my lips cannot.  My brothers’ eyes are brown, different but somehow the same.  They are simple and calming.  My father’s eyes are dark brown.  They hold wisdom in their palms and display their strength. 
My mother’s eyes are different...they’re special.  Her birth certificate claims they are hazel but those eyes change like the seasons.  I’ve never met eyes so delicate and graceful yet so strong and powerful.  They are calm oceans of crystal blue when she gazes at the ones she loves but become like the gray skies on a rainy day when she is hurting.  One glance at them and I see that she holds more love than any person I know.  Without a single touch, her eyes wrap a soul in a tight hug of warmth and comfort.  Her eyes speak the truth and nothing but the truth.  Her eyes speak louder than her voice ever will.  It is remarkable. My mother’s eyes are different...they’re special.