Dear Hair on my Head

You are so soft and without knots these days. Clean or dirty I can style you in ways that I like and think are flattering. You tolerated all those years that I blew hot air on you to dry, and succumbed to my efforts to be straight. You tolerated those years that I colored, or uncolored you,, as just now, I understanding that it was poison I asked you to absorb. When I finally embraced your curls, you showed up and made it easy to just wash, go to sleep and see what happened by morning. Typically, I liked however you decided to present. You seem a bit less curly and a bit thinner, yet my hairdresser assures me that you remain robust and full. So grateful to have you as part of who I am, and who I have been.