I don’t miss those bunches of strands I left on the floor by the chair in the beauty shop. I walked away from that shop, not with clinging swirls on top of my head, against my cheeks, but with my own revised ideas on beauty as robust and brilliant as the thickening wind I can now feel behind my ears. I left on that floor in the shop time I’ve spent manipulating, fussing with that hair for it to at some point during the day to fail me.
There is something unpredictable about our hair and in some ways that is magic, but in other ways, it is demanding, of our time, our money, our self-esteem. I sat in that chair thinking about how much time and money I’ve spent trying to make my hair behave in rain, in wind, in transit, in love.
I should say that I have not given up on those strands dusting the tops of my shoulders. Instead, I gave in to time and space for me, my family, my life. For now I’d rather wake up in the morning, sit just a bit longer, write, wonder, feel the still curling in short wisps on the back of my neck.
At some point in our lives we all contemplate change. Maybe it’s not a big haircut, but surely there is something we all have changed about ourselves. Think about a time when you changed something in your life to make room, make time for something else. How did it feel to initially to make that change? How does it feel now?