Pigtails

Our magic started with your hair. I twirled your pigtails in the first day of college, thinking it was a silly hair style. “Nice hair,” I said, joking. “Thanks,” you replied smoothly, humor playing in your eyes. I sat in front of you, hoping you were thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you. On our first date, I gave you a bouquet.... of brushes. I had heard you complain that your long, thick, brown hair was hard to manage. You called my gift “Charming,” and your dad snorted. I blushed just a little. Ok, maybe a lot. You were always looking for new hairstyles. I would bring you clippings of magazines and text you hair videos on YouTube, then wait to see if you could do that hairstyle. Sometimes I would send you one just to see you with such an impossible hairstyle. You had a new one each week. I bought your mom that plug for the shower to collect all the hair. She thought it odd, but I smiled as I handed her that wrapped package. She installed it that night. At our graduation I helped as you stuck pins in your hair, holding up parts and keeping pins in my mouth. I never knew why you needed such an extravagant hairstyle, but I never questioned it. You got that job at the hair salon. I’d get my hair trimmed once a week, just to spend time with you. You had the most costumers by far and you had the best hair tips. On our wedding day, your hair was beautiful. I have no words to describe it here. I tucked that one piece behind your ear before I kissed you. I was the happiest man in the world. Our baby had curly hair. Just a little, though. I whispered, “I wonder if that tuft of curls will be as beautiful as yours.” We bought her bows and berets and bands. Anything you wanted. Then you started chemo. I struggled so much. All your hair fell out. Those beautiful brown locks. But, the hair wasn’t devastating, losing my magic was. I can see you in our daughter, though. She gives me hope. Her hair is slowly morphing into yours. She wears pigtails everyday.