Peppe's Eyes

I wrote this piece for Syllable: A Reading Series' April call for submissions. The theme was "Light." The direction writers could take was completely open – creativity encouraged. When I read the theme, my grandfather, Peppe, immediately came to mind and this piece sprung from there. For me, he is synonymous with light. I live to carry some of his within me every day since he passed in 2008. 

I was scheduled to stand at the mic and share this as part of the reading series at La Paloma Sabanera coffee house in Hartford this past Wednesday, but I took a big nosedive physically after some changes with my steroid and chemotherapy meds and just couldn't make it. I don't think my legs would have held up, never mind my exhausted head. I was disappointed to have missed hearing how other writers interpreted the "Light" theme, but am glad that I can share it here to give a little glimpse into the magic of my very special Peppe. 

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Peppe and 3-year-old Karin no doubt
planning some winter's night indoor adventure

My Peppe’s eyes were the lightest of blue, so faint and lucid that the thought of the harsh sun shining into them made me squint my own.

The color lives on in the faint, cool blue light of my brother and sister’s eyes – striking and piercing in their dramatic subtlety. My eyes are a deep hazel, a stark contrast to the translucent eyes of my siblings. 

Light was always glinting off the pale blue eyes of my grandfather, bouncing off the collection of moist tears that permanently swam in the crinkles around his eyes. Light also caught the white crust that would collect in the corners of his mouth ­– the constant spittle that old folks tend to carry in their lip folds.