Rather be Blind.

“Papa, do our eyes ever grow?”

            “Hmm.” The grandfather placed his coffee cup down and peered out from behind his newspaper. “I’m not sure.”

            “Do you think the more things we see the bigger they grow?” His grandfather looked long and hard at the boy and then tapped his fingers along the kitchen table in thought.

            “If that is true then my eyes would be very big now wouldn't they be?” The boy took a good look at his grandfather. He had hooded eyes with thin rippled wrinkles along every edge and corner of his face. A scar ran through his left eyebrow and drew attention to his grey, fogged over irises. His bottom lip quivered and the only thing that seemed to stop it from doing so was by taking another sip of coffee. He had a scruffy looking face that made a loud scratching noise whenever he had an itch. There was a lot to him. It was almost as if every wrinkle on his face was a chapter of a book that couldn't be read for a very long time.

            “Papa, I want my eyes to be just as big as yours one day.” The boy stated proudly. His grandfather put his paper down and let it rest on his crossed legs.

            “My boy, I could only pray that your eyes stay as small as they are now.”

            “But what if they start to grow?” The young boy asked concerned.

            “Squint.” His grandfather laughed as he picked up his paper and began to read again.