Lock of my hair, taken in 1979
Lock of Hair when I was 3, .
When I was three years old, my mother took a snip from my hair and placed it in an envelope.
I was 12 years old when I found the sealed envelope in a box of mementos, and I asked my mother if I could open it. She asked me not to, not quite yet. Obediently I put the envelope back in the box, but not before I held the envelope up to the sun so I could see my hair through the paper.
My brother sent me the box of mementos this week. Today, I'm 33 years old, and my mother has been gone from this world for eight years. I think she'd approve of my opening the envelope today. So, I did, for the first time.
Talk about a mindfuck. It was so soft, unlike my old, bleached, greying, dyed hair of today. I held the lock in the morning light of my bedroom, turning it in my hand. Took pictures. It had held its shape all those years.
When I held the lock up to my nose, I could smell a familiar baby girl. I could smell my old Orlando house. Not faintly, either, but an indelible signature on my hair.
I was so blown away that I needed to sit down and think, and remember.
The whole set can be viewed here.