Tuesday, May 7, 2013

something white

I am fascinated by this photo of my grandmother.
Is it because I can see an echo of both her father and her mother in her face, and the shadow of my mother as well?
Or is it her steady, level gaze of quiet confidence?
Her bearing almost regal?
Well, it should be, but I find that I can't tear my eyes away from her hair.
Such hair.
So richly dark.
The grandma of my memory did not have mysteriously dark hair.
By then, It had begun its sure and steady transformation from brown through grey to white.

As I played with my grandchildren on the weekend, my little granddaughter sang out,  "I Spy With My Little Eye, something that is white."
Turned out to be my hair.
I thought in exclamation points.
My hair is just beginning its sure and steady transformation.
Isn't it?

This evening, as I flipped down the visor of my daughter's car and gazed into the mirror, I was mesmerized by the sight of strands of hair, my hair, curling up and catching the light, like something white.

No comments: