#19 The Beauty of Being Old

For much of my life I longed for curly hair. My mother had beautful waves and my dad, in his passport photo, is sporting an attractive bend in his thickly coifed forelock.

As it was, my brother ended up with the curls and poor me was left with straight hair – lots of it- so thick it was hard to get a pincurl to stay in place.

Each night as I lay in my bed in the dark – we had no electricity- I would secure bobby pins in my hair to hopefully enhance my daytime image at school. But some of the pins would fall out and in the morning my hair would be half curly and half straight.

Hair-dressers have told me I have two varieties of hair on my head. Perm curlers need to be timed separately, depending on which part of my scalp they are located.

The hair on the back of my head has always looked better than what’s in front. It stayed dark long after the front turned grey. At least that’s what others have told me.

Now that I am old, I no longer wish that I could walk backwards when meeting people I wish to impress. As far as I’m concerned what’s invisible to the naked eye no longer concerns me.

Lately my friend Priscilla checks me out at our Silver Birch Lodge morning coffee table gatherings. She has taken to bringing a comb with her for when we meet. My hair has never looked so good  because of her rearrangements.

Only I am unable to visualize the beauty of it…

This morning I asked Priscilla take a photo of her handiwork. Oh my, don’t it look good….wish I could walk backwards.