Seeing that it is already past the ides of November, it seems likely that my goal to pen 12 pieces in 12 months will remain elusive, however I feel compelled to continue nonetheless…
When I was a little girl, I was not allowed to grow my hair long. The offered parental rationale seemed unreasonable to me, and yet being, as already mentioned, a child, I was not in a position to object with any force.
The style of choice for most of my childhood was a bowl-cut bob, of varying lengths. There were other styles from time to time… I did enjoy a tightly coiled home-perm or 2, and spent considerable time growing out a rat-tail from my short “do” in the fourth grade, but the hair never made it past my shoulders until late in my high school years, when I was finally “old enough to take care of it”. Since graduation, it has been all manner of lengths – from pixie cut to its current state: a fine mane, littered with silver bits and split ends, resting in the middle of my back. But there is one hair constant, from inch-long to foot-long, that has been my loyal companion these many years. My sidekick. The accomplice in all of my hair-raising adventures.
The Cowlick.
It seems rude, now that I think about it, to have neglected to name this steadfast amigo. It rests just off centre, on the right side of my forehead – right side if you are me, or left if you are you. I have likened it in shape to McDonald’s famous golden arches, and it has made my quest for a perfect fringe a futile one. It is a thing to be managed, yet never conquered. It is so woven into the very fabric of me that it has been passed down, in near-identical form, to each of my dear sons. And they curse it too.
And now, a “hair” brained poem…
There once was a cowlick of fame
I neglected to give it a name
It was poorly regarded
But never discarded
Too unruly and too wild to tame
Me, today
/
And so it shall remain upon my forehead, not unlike a birthmark, permanently positioned in prominence – one of many indices of my imperfection but one which connects me, in cheerful humility, to my beautiful boys.
Wind and Bone 