In Her Eyes

My daughter has eyes like Brazilian coffee
So dark that when she looks upward they reflect the sky.
“Oh look!” they say, “Her eyes are turning blue!
How wonderful!”
“Mmmm…” I say.
Not really.
Her hair began a dark cloud
and is brightening
to the sunny brown of my childhood.
“Oh look!” they say, “She’s going to be blonde!
So lucky!”
Maybe.
But not likely.
This, from a family
whose collective dark beauty
will steal your breath away.
I felt sorry for them
Seeking features of the Other
for what’s beautiful.

So there I sat
aiming my slingshot at them
out the windows of my glass house.
So busy looking for
them in her
that I overlooked
all that was myself.
One day I opened my eyes
and realized that God
in her all-knowing wisdom
had challenged me
with a Mini-Me.
God, that minx.

I can love her father’s features,
but love the eyes,
the hair,
the chin
that in over 30 years
I have only learned to tolerate
as “good enough”?

God, She gave me a mountain to climb.
God, She’s asking me to love myself better
because this little one needs it.
My daughter is beautiful,
and she is me.
I’ve gotta master this thing,
and fast.
Find joy in my features,
learn to see love in the mirror
so that when those dark eyes
turn towards the sun that is Mother,
all that is reflected
is Love.