Then in that same year he asked me to marry him and I had always had this vision of having long hair for my wedding day. The date was originally set for one year and so I believed I’d have plenty of time to grow out my hair before my big day. Things didn’t exactly work out as planned. I got pregnant with Judah and the date was moved up a little and my hair was not cooperating. I wound up purchasing a hair piece so I could still look like a princess.
It’s been four years and my hair has grown so long. It’s the longest it’s ever been since I was a teenager and ever since the day I told Angie to chop it all off at 15 so I could dye it cotton candy pink, I never grew it out.
It’s become like some token to me now. In some way the length of it reminds me of the years between and the changes I’ve had to make with my life and with myself. Growing my hair out then became a committed act, much like getting married, and now when I take the two hours to wash, dry, straighten and style it I think of the sacrifices of Time.
My husband says I could cut it since I complain a lot about it. I mean it takes 2 hours to do my hair! However, I don’t know if I could. There is some bond between my hair and my life now. Taking care of it is in some way a representation of the time and sacrifice I take care of in my marriage. I complain about my marriage sometimes too. ~smiles~ No matter the complaints though, I love my marriage. I love my hair. I can rarely let it out and it generally stays tucked up, but sometimes when the day is done or the wind is especially warm and wispy I can let it out of his clip and feel it fly freely. Even in this do I think of my relationship with my husband that has to be snug away when the day is upon us and the needs of the children and work supersede our desires to bond. We let ourselves out though when the day is done or when the warmth of alone moments let us fly freely also.
I was thinking about my hair yesterday while brushing it out. I was thinking about Time as my personal time was slowly disappearing. I was thinking about how tied I am to it’s lengthy existence where I had never been before. Every strand is a moment in the life of my marriage and I wondered, while sitting there frying it with a straightener, if I could ever let go of all those moments metaphorically, let go of all the strands of my life here and see them at the bottom of a salon chair.
My hair at least taught me the virtue of patience. About how sometimes marriages also go through the awkward phases, but that eventually it would get there to the place you want it to be in time and no matter what you can always brush the kinks out, you can always make things straight again. And if sometimes you lose some, “It’ll always grow back.”