Eyes tell a tale of their own

Luky;
"Eyes," our history teacher at school would sternly say "are the mirror of the soul". 
"Rubbish," I'd think privately, but just for safety's sake, I'd fix mine about a fraction of an inch above her eyebrows. As the years go by all these old expressions come back to me, and I've begun to experience their underlying truth.
"A stitch in time saves nine", I sigh dismally as I view the pile of buttonless, hemless garments that have a way of collecting in my cupboards. "Health and happiness, two things you cannot buy", I advise myself as I gaze longingly at the new season's fashions in the store windows. "Out of sight, out of mind", I mutter spitefully, when having ascertained, upon checking my post box, that my ex-neighbour still hasn't replied to my six page letter of two months ago. And by now there is no doubt in my mind that eyes are the mirror of the soul.


Everybody subconsciously notices certain things about his fellow men and women. Some look for bearing, others listen for pronunciation, yet others watch hands. I notice eyes, not as much for their colour or beauty as for their expression. There is so much one can learn about people from their eyes.


Eyes tell a tale of their own
A great number are able to control their facial expressions to the extent of looking pokerfaced, there are those enviable ones who can tell a joke without collapsing with laughter at its humour themselves and there are some who maintain a controlled expression in the face of deep sorrow and pain. Often their eyes, however, tell a tale of their own.


There is that steely flash of anger that can come to the eyes of the most easygoing person when one tries him a little too far. Almost immediately it may fade and the expressions become more kindly, yet somehow you find yourself treading a little more carefully afterwards. There is the wandering non-focusing glance of the person who doesn't like you and is not quite sure whether the friends in whom he confided about this matter have already told you. There are the cold eyes accompanying an otherwise sweet smile.


Look of love and pride
Then there are the understanding eyes of the person in whom you find yourself confiding about your problems and of whom it never occurs to you that he might have some of his own, the eyes of a mother talking to her baby, those of a father greeted enthusiastically by his offspring upon arrival from work, and the grandmother's look of love, pride and fulfilment as she holds her first grandchild. There is the look of mistrust in a salesman's eyes as he watches you saying goodbye when you have forgotten to pay for the item you purchased. "Don't bother to apologise", one said to me on one occasion, "it happens every day".
I still get warm with embarrassment when I think of those words and the look accompanying them.


The eyes of young lovers
As for the eyes of young lovers, one look at them can cheer even the most bitter person. That young girl's fleeting glance at her boyfriend, which already moving away is suddenly captured in the glance of the beloved one's and seemingly unable to tear itself away, drowns in a tide of love. Even those cynical people who declare that love between man and woman is an illusion and that marriage is a prison, cannot refrain from smiling when watching the eyes of a couple in love.


Once I went and asked a new neighbour for permission to use her telephone. When I had made my call and we were talking I noticed that her eyes kept travelling to the door. I was on the point of leaving when an attractive teenage girl swept in, dressed beautifully in a ball frock. 
The pride and love in her mother's eyes were reflected in her hushed voice as she said, in the tone of one presenting a debutante at Buckingham Palace:
"Mrs. Whittle, may I introduce to you . . . my daughter Mary!"
It may sound funny but when Mary paid me a short neighbourly call afterwards, I felt deeply honoured.


The eyes of an immigrant
The same expression I saw in the eyes of an immigrant next to whom I stood at a glance when his daughter was chosen as beauty queen. The voice broke like that of a young boy as he said to his wife: "Isn't that really great news?" and when the queen turned and waved to them excitedly he beamed and waved back, looking left and right to make sure everyone saw it was his daughter.


I really ought to get some sunglasses.


*The photograph reminds me of a Japanese print. Taken in the gloaming of beautiful Ireland. Please feel free to use copyright free for any worthy purpose - Catherine Nicolette