Sunday, September 2, 2012


When I was a child, I had to keep my hair in a boy-cut, due to my allergies being completely out of control.  It really did help me allergies a lot, until the weekly allergy shots became a routine and allowed me to grow my hair out again. After that time, I tended to keep my hair long (or REALLY long) throughout high school and into college. I got tricked into cutting my hair ONCE, my freshman year, and then grew it out again as soon as possible. The only other time I cut it off was when I had too, again, due to medical reasons (the hard-corps medicine I was on had damaged it beyond repair).  Someone once inquired as to why I kept my hair so long, as it was generally unmanageable and I look cute with short hair, anyway.  This was written in response to that occasion. 

My Mama’s Curls
“Why don’t you cut your hair short again? It’d look so cute that way!”
I looked back at you closely, not sure of what to say.
My mind’s eye sees a mem’ry, so long ago, so clear
Of my mama on the telephone, and I was standing near.
She tossed her head back and she laughed— A truly joyful sound
And on her finger, auburn-red, she twirled her hair around.
It wrapped around that finger, always just the same
A pretty fan of brown, gold, red; and never truly tame.
She rubbed the curl across, stroking gently with her thumb
Then let go and toss it back, then take another one
I snuck around behind her to try to do the same
Watching oh so closely, then went to grab my mane
Of hair.  I then remembered, with a sudden sorrowful sigh
That I’d gone to get a haircut, now my hair would not comply
As I tried to wrap my finger.  I then began to cry--
I told myself right then and there, that someday I would be
Exactly like my mama, the woman of my dreams.
That mem’ry of the phone call, and the twisted lock of hair
Stayed with me then and always, but never had I shared
The reason that I always felt a love for curled long hair.
“Hello?” you said, and waved at me, “Sabina, are you there?”
“Oh,” said I, now with a smile,  my thumb stroking my curl,
“I guess I just like it better long.”