A Close Shave

I was sitting in a staff meeting…

paying attention

and showing enthusiasm…

when something

grabbed my attention.

 One of the ladies at work

was going to shave her hair. 

Off. 

She’s been living with leukaemia

 for ten years and needed to

do something big

to mark the anniversary.

  I let the idea float around

 my head a while

and then headed home.

I couldn’t think of a single reason

 not to join her. 

Not one. 

My sisters couldn’t give me

a reason not to, either…

It seemed I had no choice. 

 With my baby nephew

fighting liver cancer

and boasting a cleanly shaven head….

I had plenty of reasons

 TO shave my hair. 

 So, the next morning,

I surrended my hair. 

 A few days later,

my hair was plaited

and three little sets

of fingers each cut off

a section of my hair. 

Dad snipped some off…

and I was left

with chunky hair

at the back of my head. 

 The next day,

my hair was full of plaits…

Kids from my class revelled

in the chance to cut

 their teacher’s hair…

and I was left

with scrappy, messy hair.

  Not for long. 

Clippers soon fixed that. 

 In a blur of crazy moments,

my hair was puddled

on the floor and I was wearing

a short number two style. 

It was amazing! I

 felt younger.

I felt fresh.

I felt clean.

And, I felt good

for supporting a friend

and for supporting Dexter. 

It was amazing to feel

the wind lift the tiny tufts

 of hair on the back

of my head. 

 It was incredible to feel

the water drip through

my shaven hair in the shower…

 Oh, and two flicks of a towel

and my hair was ready to go!

Now, almost a week later

and I can feel how much

my hair has grown.

I love it…

though I have to admit

to the greys

I just cannot cover!