They’re supposed to be the window to our souls, and I find that the more problems a kid in my school might have with social and basic academic skills, the less likely the kid is to look in a person the eyes when speaking to anyone, especially an authority figure. There must be some truth to it, then. Consider also how we often keep them shut to block a slice of reality that is just too difficult to accept.
Sometimes, though, someone or something else closes our eyes. In that case, it can rarely be positive. But it can certainly be positive when these same eyes open, just a bit. Do a Google image search: “eyes slightly open” and you’ll find picture after picture of people lying in hospital beds, various tubes and apparatuses trailing away from the body.
And it makes sense: those are the times when a slightly opened eye is the most beautiful thing one can imagine.
There was a banner across the entrance to the house when my mother’s cousin turned forty. “Lordy! Lordy! C’s forty!” It seemed to be such a big deal, her turning forty. She was aghast, horrified. Or at least she pretended to be.
