Tonight I stood on Sarah's porch while Amelia braided my hair. She braided my hair and I watched my friends in the kitchen cooking lentil soup. Everywhere was brisk, autumn finally sneaking back into the air. I stood incredibly still as Amelia took her scissors and cut. My hair was so thick that it took a good minute to chop that braid off. And it fell to the ground like an animal stunned, eighteen inches of woven hair--a good pound of hair--gone. And it felt wonderful. Literally a weight off of me. The scissors had sounded horrible crunching through my hair but when I saw the braid on the ground, felt the breeze on the back of my neck, I knew it was exactly what needed to be done. It sounds cheesy but when Amelia asked me how I felt I said, "Like a new woman." Like I could finally move on with my life. Like everything that mattered, everything that happened when those eighteen inches were stuck to my head could be laid to rest. Is this what happens when the weather cools and the heart starts skipping like mad with all the crispness of leaves crackling under foot? When people move across countries, move out of old lives, out of old loves, out of old habits?
I came home to a single piece of mail: my Iowa voter registration confirmation.
Dear Iowa, I'm yours.
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
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