7-18-13
Brushing my hair. I love the way it feels when the bristles touch my scalp. Running my fingers through the strands, feeling like silk threads. I'm grateful for my hair. How it feels on the back of my neck and on my shoulders.
I remember how it felt to lose it. How cold my head was and how ugly I felt. I remember the tears and how I avoided the mirror. I couldn't touch it. My fingers were numb from the chemo. Each day I lost more and more until it was all gone. I tried ice packs and put on a cap to try to stop it. But lost it all. Who was that person?
One night I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and scared myself: bald head, sunken eyes, dark circles. Was it a zombie? Was it an intruder? No...it was me. I cried and cried. I lost myself. Who is that person?
But today, I have hair. Beautiful soft hair that still makes me cry when I brush it. But only because I remember that girl that lost her hair. She was so sad. Now when i look close I can still see her; there she is, looking right back at me. She is in my eyes. But now she's not afraid. Because she is me, now.
Today, I am grateful for my hair.
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