When I meet my bestie in a pub equidistance from the cities we call home, she walks right past me. She laughs, telling me she circled the bar, ignoring the flat-haired woman propped against the magnolia pillar. She says, ‘What the hell happened to your curls?’ I laugh – and then I cry, like someone has slammed me into reverse. She teases me into recovery. We talk about how we were loud and funny, identifiable by our lovely hair. We talk about how – if we are lucky – we are equidistance from our births and the last places we will call home.
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Sue Clayton
27/11/2022 01:38:40 am
As we grow older we are identified by much more than our once luxuriant hair. And to have a bestie for all those years...how great is that. 27/11/2022 02:27:59 pm
Definitely, Sue! Thanks for reading. But I would say there is a realisation/adjustment at every stage - that's what I was trying to capture. Yer, shout out to the besties! Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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