Haircut

Can you be fearless and also full of fear?

I stare at myself in the mirror of the hair salon, watching Kristina take scissors to my long hair.

I fear that once she cuts it off, the sinking feeling in my chest won’t fall with it.

It will stay.

This happens every time I come here,

I think to myself as I remember to blink my eyes.

What if it does stay? I make a face at my reflection as

Kristina starts to snip away the dead strands that are

full of heavy memories.

The strands drop to the floor, and they don’t make a sound.

But I feel like they should.

My shoulders ease as she works her way across my back, long pieces of hair leaving me abruptly and

without

hesitation.

Yep. They're definitely heavy.

Before I know it,

it's time to get out of the chair. Time to run my fingers through the short strands.

It’s nice to be able to cut off a piece of yourself that is weighing you down, that remembers the things you don’t want it to.

I hope one day I will want to keep my hair long.