As a little girl I searched for a specific pair of eyes.

My adoptive mother’s eyes were not right; they were green and did not really see me. No, the eyes I needed were a special shape and shade of blue. 

Longingly, I scanned the faces of strangers walking down the street, hoping one of them would recognize me as their own. But those eyes never found me. 

This was a lost child’s dream—to be saved by my mother’s eyes. Eyes that no longer felt they had a right to look for me.

I made these eyes in my children. They were the perfect shade of blue, so loving and innocent. My children’s eyes were home. 

They healed part of me, but these eyes needed me to reflect them, make them whole, so they would not suffer the same feelings of being lost. It was easy to know what they needed; because it was what I had so desperately wished for.

When I was 29, I saw my mother’s eyes. They recognized me, but there was only a glint of my spirit in them. Too much time had passed between us. If my mother’s eyes could not save me, I thought no one’s could.

Twelve years passed before the universe whispered there were other’s eyes that needed me as much as I needed them.

When I found your eyes, my soul relaxed. They were the ones I had been looking for, needing. Your eyes were the same shade of blue and your smiles were mirror images of mine. You reflected my essence and I loved you already. 

After searching and waiting my whole life, for a second time, I was home. Everything else melted away. 

Innocents in our stories, looking for affirmation from people who could not provide it, we were the final, missing pieces to heal each other’s hearts and souls.

You claimed me with your open arms, loving hearts, and beautiful reflections. 

Now that I have found you, I am never taking my eyes off you.