Cyclops have one eyeball that rolls around in their socket of a head. Bunnies have two eyes attached to the side of their fuzzy skulls. And humans have two eyes attached to the front of their fleshy faces. 

Myopia, most commonly known as nearsightedness, has existed throughout human history. To cure one of the blurry mirage myopia inflicts on us, we turn to innovation. We wear thick lenses, replace the  windows into our souls, and insert jelly plastic: to see the world around us. 

Only to look straight ahead. 

With the two eyes attached to the front of our fleshy faces we look straight ahead as if we only had one eye to begin with. We walk, we run, and we talk straight ahead, forgetting the life vested in the periphery. 

Just like one’s vision, the desperate desire to clarify, refine, and perfect undermines the importance of noticing what is beyond us. It’s our focus on our own internal turmoil that prevents us from observing the clouds, the butterflies, and the flowers. We prevent ourselves from experiencing life. 

We are humans with two eyes attached to the front of our fleshy faces.

We are humans that wish to be Oraphims, beings with so many eyes we’d be sure we could see the world for what it truly is. With all of the windows to our souls, we could see the butterflies, the clouds, and the flowers that adorn our environment. But we can’t.

We are humans with two eyes attached to the front of our fleshy faces. We are not angels. But we can try. 

Look around.

Michael’s

Slime, Sewing, Bracelets

In my little pony, the concept of death is showcased; not through the way in which Apple Jack’s parents passed away, but how they lived.

At 7am they walk their dog, Benji. Then they go to church. Sometimes I think my grandparents are monks. But not quite, they are missing the bald patch of hair significant of those most holy.

My grandma takes me to Michael’s everytime we meet. It’s a routine that’s ingrained in the groovy grooves of my brain. I’m obsessed with slime, so when I see the glitter glue and beads you best believe I pounce at them. When we get to my grandparent’s house; like a monastery with a pool and an angry white dog that bites when you touch him, I wash my hands. My sister and I. We wash our hands.

My sister and I like watching videos on our ipad, but only CookieSwirlC, if it’s not CookieSwirlC we don’t watch it. My grandma has an ipad too. We go on our ipads. 

The rest of the day we eat jello and jellybeans. 

The rest of the day we make bracelets out of colorful diamond shaped beads and stretchy string. 

The rest of the day we swim like fish and get told not to splash water onto the concrete.

The rest of the day we sew bean bags and are told stories of the past.

The rest of the day I draw pictures to earn a spot on the fridge. 

The rest of the day we eat a dinner; egg drop soup, ribs and yam leaves. 

The rest of the day we try blueberry soda that stings our mouths and nearly travels up our noses. 

The rest of the day she finishes making rosaries and crocheting prayer shawls.

But that day eventually comes to an end. I know that the sun sets everyday, but I wish it didn’t. Tomorrow has come and now my dad is asking me if I wanted to go on a walk. I say no. I don’t want to go on a walk. 

Sometimes I wish it was me who died. 

But if I died and she was living and breathing I wouldn’t get to hug her.

Selfish isn’t it? 

Here I stand over a dug out rectangle in the ground. People toss in roses and I’m angry that my mom tells me to hurry up; other people need their turn to pay their respects. I’m angry at God that she’s gone and I’m still here, living and breathing. My eyes are teary and my eyebrows are furrowed low. My heart is low. I should’ve taken a walk. 

It’s been four years and every holiday I sit on a lawn chair in the sun with my hands folded. I hold the purple rosary and say my share of holy marys and our fathers. When I pray I see her. My dad who went on a walk around the cemetery on her burial day, my sister who ate the jellybeans with me, my cousin who made slime with me, my mom, my aunt, my uncle, my grandpa, and me, we see her when we pray.