Tanner Reanne Blackton

Hands In Her Hair

Twice a week, we bring out the arsenal. I put one of my large throw pillows on the ground and I gingerly help my mother lower herself to sit between my knees as I perch on the edge of the couch. Getting up and down off the floor is not as easy as it once was for her. The coffee table is laden with bottles of coconut oil, grape seed oil, detangling cream, a Denman brush, a rat tail comb, leave-in conditioner, a spray bottle full of warm water, and two glasses of Coke. It is a routine I was once daunted by, yet now I eagerly await.