Photo credit goes to my youngest who braved the sunshine so I could get a good shot.

It’s a blend of many colors and textures, composing a unique whole much like I see myself. There are streaks of dark brown, reddish brown, light brown…all the way to the purist white. Yes, like many famous Disney villains, I was born with white streaks, one on each temple.

I haven’t always appreciated my hair. It’s an odd combination of very thin strands and lots of them, which means most hair clips can’t keep it confined. It tickles where it touches bare skin, and though it has natural waves, they’re pulled straight by its weight. It grows at an incredible rate, making it hard to keep a short haircut, and requires a lot of tending when long. And that isn’t even going into its willful attempts to strangle me when I sleep.

It’s not perfect, but then, what is? Certainly not me.

So I’ve come to appreciate the unique qualities of my hair, even the ones that are less welcome like how it turns the color of pencil lead if I don’t get enough sun. It’s easy to focus on the things that annoy. But when you take a moment to see the wonder, sometimes those annoyances fade like so much fog once the sun has risen to claim the sky.