The East wind is blowing as I’m walking through the Farmer’s Market. I’m watching the cold wind smack the lettuce off my hot fish taco.
When I look up I see a woman waving at me from a booth. I walk over and recognize her from other places in town.
“I can’t remember your name,” she says, “but I sure remember your hair!”
My hair is white. I call it platinum, and I have lots of it. It’s bouncing in the wind now, blowing and billowing around my head in a whipped frenzy.
This hair has a lot of energy. My mother used to say “I can always tell when you’re upset Venus, or when something dramatic is going on in your life because it stands straight out all over your head.”
Oh yes. It’s curly, too.
My hair is electric; sometimes more so then others.
When my hair is wet it looks like almost nothing is there. It sticks to my head making my face look like a pecan in it’s shell or the top part of a long green onion.
As the hair begins to dry it gains momentum and is soon flying around my head and face like white frosting shot from a can.
People marvel at the change.
Why am I rapturing on about my hair to you? In a moment you will know. (more…)