Reflections
I had monolids (no crease) until my early thirties, but sometimes my eyelids would flip on their own like this. I am four. I show my mom that sometimes I can make my eyelids fold over like hers. I am proud. She says nothing but her silence is loud. I am five. My class is seated on the carpet in front of Mrs. Blue. She asks each of us, "What color are your mother's eyes?" My kindergarten brain races to figure this out. . . . People have different eye colors? I didn't know that . . . I listen to each classmate. I think. I can't remember. Maybe I will tell a lie. Mrs. Blue asks me, "What color are your mother's eyes?" "I don't know." "You don't know?! How can you not know what color your mother's eyes are?" I am ashamed. I am six. I am seven. At the bus stop, an Asian girl greets me. I haven't seen her before. "I like your lunch pail," she says with a smile and a thick accent. &quo
