Mom,
I wrote this yesterday, I hope it doesn't make you sad.
Love you,
Steph
January 24, 2009
She asks me to,
I say ‘okay’,
Stand behind, clippers in hand,
Looking at her hair, short but still there.
‘It will feel better when it’s gone’
She says bravely.
I flip the switch,
the clipper hums to life,
A path of stubble left behind,
As the hair falls around her shoulders.
‘Save some pieces’ she says,
I gather them up,
Like precious treasures
And lay them on the table.
My hands smooth her bristly scalp,
Brushing away the loose fuzz.
She smiles through her sadness,
Asks “Do I look awful?”
Dad smiles, says ‘it could be worse.’
I clean up the brown locks on the floor,
Contemplating the new look,
My Mom, shaved bald.
Never had I imagined,
My hands, her hair.
Cancer changes everything.
No comments:
Post a Comment