I walked up the mountain today all the while composing a poem called "Ode to Curly Hair". Now that I am home I have forgotten most if it, or at least I have lost the rhythm of it. It was all about hatin' on this hair of mine all my life. About frizzies in Florida, about orange juice cans and lots of hair spray, about the long straight hair era that I lived, make that survived, through. It was about large round brushes and blow dryers. It was about Honduras,100% humidity, riding in the back of a pickup truck and finally letting go. About loving this crown of filigreed silver that I now wear on my head. It was about the ones that have now fallen 'in the line of duty' and how the others have closed ranks, become closer. So far you cannot tell that I am loosing my hair, it just looks shorter because the ones that are left are standing in the gap for the ones that haven't made it. I love curly hair.
2 comments:
Hi Debbi, I've been watching for comments and only just slowed down long enough to post one. I'm glad the "curly" is finally being helpful for you. I know you're sad about not being across the big water, but I'm glad you got started on the road to being well again. I'll keep praying for you and Michael and of course Cissy down here in the office next door.
Love,
John
Good for you for walking up the mountain and for exercising your brain poetically while you were at it. Keep up the good work!
Do you know Jeanne at the hospital calls me Cissy? She even wrote it in her email.
I love you!
Danita
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