Ponytails

When Christy was young she mostly wore her hair in ponytails. Around the age of five or six I decided to get her pretty blonde hair cut. I took her somewhere (I don’t remember where) with her hair in a ponytail and asked them to cut it. The girl asked me if I wanted to keep her hair, I said yes so she just whacked off the ponytail. It was held by one of those old fashioned ponytail holders, the ones shaped like a figure eight with a little ball in each of the loops. I took it home, placed it in a plastic bag and forgot about it. Now, I’ve moved many times since then so I’m sure I’ve run across the ponytail numerous times before, but I wasn’t really prepared to find it Tuesday night. I was looking through my sock drawer, I stash junk in the bottom of my sock drawer, and there was that beautiful curly blonde, with just the hint of red, ponytail. It was in its plastic bag all sealed up. I opened it and smelled her hair, hoping to smell Christy again. But I’m the mother who always wanted Christy’s hair to look perfect, so the hair smelled like hairspray. I was disappointed. I played with the curls for a few minutes, placed it back in its bag and reburied it in the bottom of my sock drawer. It made me both happy and sad.

Missing my little ponytail girl,
Julie