Technically, Courtney’s eyes were colorless. That’s the case for all so-called blue-eyed people. If it were possible to look into her eyes with no light present, her iris would be colorless. She loved this fact.
She was pretty sure it was a fact.
Sitting on the beach, Maryl requests that Courtney focus.
“Sorry,” she says. “I got lost in thought.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Maryl replies. “When you notice, or when someone else notices, that you’ve lost focus, simply return to the object.”
“Sorry, object?” Courtney ventures to ask.
“Again, do not apologize when you have done nothing wrong. The focus or object of the practice. In our case, the object is the horizon.”
Courtney stops herself from apologizing again and directs her gaze to the horizon.
“Remember, when it feels right, when the reflection of the sun on the surface begins to fill your eyes, close them quickly to trap the light, and then just watch,” Maryl instructs.
Courtney follows Maryl’s instructions. With her eyes closed, she sees the electric glow behind her eyes coalesce into a scene, but the next thing she knows, she’s thinking about how she can almost taste the salt of the sea through her nose.
Part of the Twelve Stories collection.
One Reply to “The Water Shine Persists”
Comments are closed.