You want to be a part of me, your absence of color like spider’s silk growing, surrounded by a sea of dark strands, lonely. Patiently, you wait for me to find you, but my job, chores, phone calls, and the rest of routine that comes with family keep me distracted during the day. You’re with me when I rest my chin over my toddler son’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around me after a day at school. When I’m stepping and pivoting as I dance through a workout, beads of sweat collecting around your shaft and dripping down my face before I wipe them away with my sleeve. When I wet you down during a bathroom break at work because the Houston humidity has brought out the frizz in you and the forest of brown. When I put in the umpteenth load of laundry into the washer, you and a few friends fall from behind my ear and I quickly tuck you back where you belong. When night arrives to take us into tomorrow, I finally catch your solitary shine in my reflection. There you are, on the edge of my forehead, as I’m brushing my teeth. I finish, spit, rinse off my hands and finally, give you my undivided attention. Though I’m flattered by your appearance and how kind you are to accompany me through all the moments that have led me to this one, you know I can’t keep you around. Society would frown upon our unspoken bond, would wrinkle its nose at evidence of the natural aging process, forbidden in favor of maintaining a youthful face until the end. Denying the proof of years lived fully and without apology, I pluck you from my scalp and down the drain you go once more. As your sisters and cousins follow suit throughout the years, it will be harder to ignore you all and what you stand for. But maybe by then, you all will be revered, respected enough so that your existence will be easier to accept as I run my fingers through soft strands stripped of color. May the gifts that come with old age be better appreciated so that I may hope to embrace them in the twilight of my life.
Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash
