When I was a little girl, I loved my mom’s hair. I remember how shiny it was. I remember how brown it was. I remember how soft it was. It was a comforting part of that wonderful person who knew me best. I can see it twirled around my fingers over and over again. I wonder if she minded all that twirling.
Her hair isn’t brown anymore. It’s not too shiny either. I’m not sure if I touched it last time I saw her. She has mothered six children and has lived 72 years.
She’s had cancer twice and leukemia. She’s lost almost all of her hair before, had her head shaved, and worn a wig.
Her hair is short now. It is gray. It is not important to her. Next time I see her I’m going to feel her hair.
I’ll bet it’s still soft.
© Copyright 2011 alwayssimplybegin | Katie Sciba.
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