Will you help me take my hair down? this is an evolving collection of writings that culminates in a lifelong love story, told from my perspective alone. I do not intend to tell the story from anyone else’s point of view, as those stories belong to them. This story is true to me at the time that I am writing it, knowing what I know today. People, emotions, and memories may shift, dissolve, or become clearer over time, and so may the stories I’ve told. If at another time, I have the compulsion and time to retell or amend the story, I will. Until then, I hope that this story will mean something to someone as it is.
I hope that love finds and envelops you, gently touches you, pays close attention to your details, knows your undesirable parts, and encourages the best of you, as it did for me.
introduction.
me, as art.
i’d scattered my pieces all over
a little there with him
some with him right there
grief and lonely aching arms.
grief is such a weird part of life because it seems like it has nowhere to go. i, along with my grief, can spend hours, days, weeks, and years just sitting thinking of all the things we should be able to do. should we watch a movie or listen to some music? “really, what good is a movie,” grief asks. grief is right – there’s really no point to movies at all.
braiding pain with beauty: a memory.
Light Trigger Warning: as one of my classmates put it, “the scalp can be a mother-daughter wound.”
I am so fortunate to be comforted by the healing balm of my mother’s love as we detangle our stories together, and this story is in no way an indictment of her. I have nothing but deep respect and gratitude for the way that she has mothered all these years.
the softness in braiding grandmommy’s hair.
I was envious of her. That would never change.
a quick hello and let’s begin.
These pages are written with the conviction of a woman that could really only be validated in a death bed, after 100 years of living. I know this, but I’ll write them anyway, as if I’m 100 years old, remembering from my rocking chair, having all the knowing the world has to offer me.