Eyes like Europe. Sophisticated. Like tea on a Sunday afternoon. Like ivory colored sandwiches cut into triangles. Framed in lashes, curling gently like a blossoming flower. Light always seizes the opportunity to dance on her earthy, ethnic eyes. Reflecting, darting on and off like a fly that can’t sit still on a window sill. Like spotlights on a stage, drawing attention to the main performer. Pigments of color dancing, twirling, like gypsy dancers covered in gold bracelets. Black and dangerous, the pupil is a bullet that can shoot through you if you’re the subject of one of Cindy’s judgmental stares. Her honest eyes are hidden when Cindy messes up. Hidden by the lollipop color that rushes to her cheeks, like the ocean rushing to meet the sand. Like pollution to that ocean, a secret kryptonite for her is being alone with a group of adults. Women whose noses do not like being overshadowed by their foreheads. Ladies that have their hair pulled back in a tight bun that doesn’t move, plastered with hair spray as if it’s afraid to fall out of place. Men in over-starched, identical suits with belts struggling to contend with the weight of many cell phones and beepers that lace their waistlines. The best-of-the-best briefcase’s (that every one of them just had to have) handles are becoming worn since they hardly ever leave the hands of their owners. The ‘locks’, however, are in perfect condition since they are hardly ever touched by those same hands... Her once vigorous eyes lose their luster and become obscured by a stuttering voice when Cindy’s isolated with these people. Her eyes become veiled like a cloak worn over Cinderella’s dress.
Her eyes are the springtime. They are the vivacious breeze that tumbles through the air like clothes in a dryer. They are the sun’s tender warmth that radiates from a seashell blue sky. They are the softness of the Christmas-colored grass covered in ornaments of early morning dew. They are the ‘wide eyed’ beauty and innocence of a newborn deer. Just as those things are vital to spring, Cindy’s eyes are the essence of her personality. Crucial to her every expression. Like ballet slippers to a dancer. Talent does not depend on the slippers, with or without them you still have your skill. But it would be awfully hard for an audience to understand the message of your dance if you’re trying to do pirouettes with snow boots on.