As soon as it started growing, she got stopped everywhere.
Still does. The blonde spirals prompting memories of Shirley Temple and Goldie Locks nick names. It grows wild like an animal yet spirals like birthday present ribbon. And every strand has an issue. A hair out of place is an invitation to judge. By those who don’t matter. The uninspiring family members, the fair-weather friends and the never to be seen again passerby. Let the braiding be done by the ones deserving of stepping through the threshold of our hearts.
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