My Fourteen Eyes

Before my mom left Iceland she said to me in Greek “tα μάτια σου τέσσερα/ δεκατέσσερα” (ta matia sou tessera/dekatessera). Its direct translation is “your fourteen eyes” or “your four eyes”, but is another way of saying keep your eyes peeled/be careful. This was a new phrase to me, I had not heard her use this one before, but it kept rolling around in my head—not in the way of feeling in danger, but more wanting to use these fourteen eyes to take in my surroundings. The big sky, the sea, the hills, mountains, horses, I want to see it all, but my two eyes feel insufficient to take it in. Nervous to sleep and close my blinds, it feels like I’m shutting out the sky. It will keep changing, clouds moving, sun hovering. Like someone is putting on a performance, and I’m falling asleep in the middle of it. I will probably cry a lot when I leave. I know it’s the same sky, but here it always feels like it’s staring back at me. The veil feeling thin, I can almost see behind, but the fog rolls in and hides what it wants from you. Shannon’s weiner dog tattoo matches the one that is on the fridge, and I really like that. There are a lot of things here that I really like and want to see, but for now, I will close my two eyes, wishing there were 14 of them, and go to sleep.