My Eyes

Every night before I shower I have a routine. This routine consists of menial tasks that get me ready for the next work day. I do have my routine in the morning too, but, this particular thought I am writing about did not happen in the morning.

Now, do not get me wrong, I can change direction and break my routine whenever and however I need. With my mind racing as fast as it does and creating solutions ( or what I think are solutions ) to the issues in my life, it is relaxing to do mindless actions that actually accomplish something.

As the transformation to the lobsterman approached. For those of you who have no idea about lobsterman...I take very hot showers. As shower time approached, I made myself stop to look at the mirror the other day. I did something that I never do. I have always avoided this action and still cannot believe I followed through.

I stopped and looked at my eyes in the mirror.

I have trained myself to look at other peoples eyes. Not waiver, not look away. I actually enjoy looking into the eyes of other people. I make it a point to do that on scenes. It seems to me that people are not accustomed to others looking at them and then reaching into them.

Many people will tell a firefighter what has happened before they tell the police. Even though the police officer will be able to help them exponentially more than I can. But, they tell me. Maybe because I kneel and get below their eye level, being submissive in my appearance to them, wearing out the top left toe of my boot. Maybe it is because they know that I really want to listen to them so I can help them.

Maybe no one has ever taken the time to look them in their eyes.

So, there I was, looking at my own eyes in the mirror.

I looked away.

I looked up again then looked away.

I did not want to see myself. I have not done anything evil or bad and could not face myself for that reason. I could not look at myself in the eyes. But, for some reason I felt that need.

I am not going to say that when I looked in my eyes I could see the stormy sea under the torrential downpour of clouds so swollen of their cares that their weeping...blah blah blah.

Nope.

When I made myself look, I saw wrinkles.

Yup, there they were, On the outer corners of my eyes. Laugh lines.

But, I tried to throw that away just like I do many other things. Why am I refusing the idea that I have laugh lines? More importantly, why am I refusing that I actually laugh? I know those lines are there for multiple reasons. Working outside, the stresses on the body while working on shift, the closing of my eyes while playing a tune in a show. But, I have wrinkles. Laugh lines.

I enjoy laughing.

It lifts my spirit, helps me appreciate the person or situation that caused me to respond that way.

So I continued to look.

Then I focused on my eyes. A flood of memories ran through my head. I was no longer seeing my eyes, but yet I could still see them in the mirror.

I saw my eyes wide in amazement when I found out that my dad played trumpet when he was in school.

I saw my eyes beam with accomplishment when I got the call for the fire department.

I saw my eyes with hurt when I began to think that it was all my fault.

I saw my eyes with tears when I realized that I had lost what I always wanted.

I forced myself back to the present. I made myself return to me. I was standing in my bathroom, looking in my mirror. At my eyes.

I had tears on my cheeks. Just two. One on each cheek. The right one had reached the corner of my mouth. The left one was at the top of my cheek refusing to make a trail any farther on my face. He was a stubborn one that tear was.

Due to the fact that I do not see things as many other people do, I looked at that tear. I realized he was not mocking me. I was not being called a crybaby by that tear. But I felt like he wanted me to stop looking at my eyes and concentrate on him for a few seconds. So I did.

He showed me something that I was not ready to see.

Through that tear, the world is upside down.

I know how our eyes flip the image and hit the back of our eyeballs then our brains makes it right side up so we can process the images and colors.

That does not happen with the tear. That tear took that upside down, skewed and messed up image from my eye and washed it away. It wanted me to see that. It wanted me to see what power a tear can have.

I could hear him say: "Hey bud. I got this. Don't look at things like that! Look in your eyes after I clean them up for you. Get those wrinkles a bit deeper."

Who knew that the idea of a tear talking to me would make me think about how I look at myself.

Yeah, strange huh?

But not too strange. I am learning that I need to listen. Not just observe. But listen.

Listen to what happens when I look at my eyes.