Her eyes didn’t meet mine in the beginning. Then, as we all took turns speaking, she faced us in turn, eyes open. Open wide with bewilderment, corners crinkled with laughter, downcast in thought…then probing, piercing, mining an answer from the depths of my own. Later, red and moist, threatening to spill, spiky-lashed and shining. Wiped clear with a deliberate smile; that cleanser of souls, that harbinger of hope. A world in her eyes, her eyes so like her son’s.