Witness, Beloved, Umbrella in rainy days, Locked door in dark nights—
Still celebrating my hair!
Not every woman likes growing long hair. I do love it. I did short hair in some period of time: senior high school when short hair gave privilege to be called “not too girl” and some recent years when busy days took away the hair time.
Now the long hair period has claimed its prime time back and ready to witness the joy shared by its owner.
A lady is walking to the lake. An empty clay jar sits on her waist. Her hair is hanging loose, Listening to love songs, waving to the sky.
Sitting, she looks down Saying hi to her reflection on and on. My hair, thanks for growing long And for listening to my love songs.
A lady is walking back to home. A clay jar full of water sits on her waist. Her hair is waving by the wind: Spreading patchouli fragrance, calming down the lane.
Walking, she looks forward Humming her best love songs. My hair, thanks for spreading good scent And making my life so fragrant. My hair, thanks for being silken And keeping this flame ardent. My hair, grow grow long. My hair, listen to these love songs. My hair, stay here Until home is welcoming me.
Each and every one deserves love and appreciation. Today I took longer time to scrutinise and caress my hair; this stubborn tough protein deserves love and appreciation, too.
A hymn for my hair is not too much, an extra love after shampoo to clean, conditioner to soften and sometimes hair dye to match the mood.
The hair that’s breathing
Is given a farewell cut
By a nice lady.
Temasek – October 5, 2019 / 23:00
I decided to have my hair cut short for the second time, but this time is brutally short.
I used to have very long pitch black hair (with some grey since high school). As having shorter and shorter time in the morning to wash and dry my hair before going to work, I decided to have farewell party to my beloved hair – not really, I put the cut hair in a big envelop and keep it in the cupboard until now.
The nice lady in the beauty parlor asked me why hair cut, I said “so that I can think clearly”. She giggled and did her job dutifully. This time the cut hair wasn’t treasured; it was swept and dumped to the bin by another nice lady.
Goodbye, my dear hair. No worry, your root is still here and will grow even better. Thank you for being my crown. I love you much.