My mom glanced up sharply, thoughts of pink eye or broken vessels popping to mind before noticing that her eyes looked perfectly fine.
"What do you mean, baby? What's wrong?"
"My eyes! They're black!"
It took my mom a moment to realize that most of the members of Bean's immediate family have blue or green eyes. Bean hadn't noticed before that hers are darker. Then my mom laughed.
"Sweetie! Your eyes are beautiful! They are dark eyes, like your G-pop's and your cousins' and your Aunt Bobbie's. They have brown eyes. Your eyes are hazel, like your Aunt Susan."
Every now and then, ever since her eyes started changing as a baby, I call her Atlantis. Her hazel eyes truly are lovely. They change color in every light, sometimes looking dark brown and sometimes looking fully green, or gray, or blue. Just like our beloved Atlantic Ocean.
When I observe that little girl at the shore, her Atlantic-ocean-eyes befit her to perfection. At the shore, she seems sprung up out of mermaids, a lithe and light little sea nymph, one with sand and sea and salty air.
The evening that we ventured out to try to capture images of the girls in their pink dresses, a storm began to blow over the bay. The result was a grumpy pair of photographers who lost their sunset light and just gave up and decided to play around with the light. These are straight out of the camera. The light was incredibly blue, and while these aren't print-worthy, they remind me of the moment, the warm gusts of wind, and the quiet anticipation in the air that builds before a summer storm.
Hello, little sea nymph.
|See? Here are the brown eyes.|
(Photo credit: My mom may have taken some of these. If we are trading cameras, I often can't our shots apart!)
I wish I were in Dublin
Or some other seaport town.
I'd set my foot on a steamboat,
and sail the ocean 'round.
Sailing 'round the ocean,
sailing 'round the sea,
I'd dream of handsome Molly
wherever she may be.