Hair! We fuss with it, wash it, brush it, comb it, oil it, gel it, curl it, straighten it, color it, cut it, complain about it, and even lose it.
My mother had thick, black, luxurious hair.
When she was a little girl, her sisters (who were much older) cut it into a bob and placed huge, fussy bows in it.
In later photos, she had long hair that waved and curled. She combed the front of it into a beautiful roll (which I’m sure she pinned into place), and let it fall in natural waves and curls to her shoulders. In other photos, she wears her hair in a lovely upsweep.
In my favorite picture of my mother, her glorious hair falls to her shoulders with the front artfully arranged on top. She is wearing a silky blouse and her lips are ruby red. She is simply stunning.
Years later, she cut her hair into a bob and began to wear hats.
One of my earliest memories of my Mom’s hair was when I was around 5 or 6 years old. I was getting ready to go to school—probably Kindergarten. Mom was braiding my hair, which was dark like hers, and wavy, too. She was admonishing me, “Stay still, Kathy.” Then she reached into her beautiful coil of ebony hair and removed bobby pins to secure my flyaway wisps into the braids. For a long time after that, I thought that bobby pins appeared magically in her hair.
She loved gray hair, and ironically, never had any. I often say that she would have loved my hair which now has steel-gray streaks.
Her life was cut short by cancer. Sadly, when she died, she had lost her hair as a result of chemotherapy and radiation.
But when I think of my Mom, I remember her thick, fabulous hair.
Kathy I enjoyed your memories of your mother’s beautiful hair. Strangely enough I have thought about my own sad hair much of today. This morning I wondered how much thinner my hair can get and regretted that I didn’t inherit my mom’s thick hair – which brought me to memories of her stories about her own hair and her experience being combed and styled as a child by her mom, grandma Kraynik.
Your memories are wonderful and are providing me with another way to know and appreciate my aunt Joanne.
Thank you, Terry.
The word that comes to me is “endearing.” When our loved ones are gone, we remember what were little insignificant things at the time they happened, but are now so endearing to us.
You said that very well, Nancy.
I enjoyed your story about your Mom’s hair. It actually brought back memories of my Mom setting my hair. I would sit on the floor at the edge of mom’s bed and she would set my hair with bobby pins. When I got tot teens my hair started to wave so that was the end of the bobby pins. It’s funny when you hear something that brings back old memories….it’s really nice.