By Kayla Cain
Momma and Dalice scheduled hair appointments together. The stylist, Katie, let Dalice’s color set while she put in Momma’s color, and then they switched.
At their appointment last week, Katie shaved Momma’s head to prevent the mess of it falling out soon anyway. As Katie buzzed Momma’s scalp, her teary eyes met Dalice’s behind Momma’s back, but she smiled at Momma in the mirror.
All the color mixed three months ago to stain Momma’s real hair lay stranded on the floor. Silver roots, Momma always said, made her look tired. Now Dalice knows gray hair means life. Not dying means regrowth.
Gut wrenching…
Good job.