Hair
I had my hair cut today for the first time since around a month before the pandemic took hold. That’s 18 months ago, more or less. At some point during this period we find ourselves in I had decided that one positive thing I could do while I wasn’t forced to interact in person with anyone on a professional basis is grow my hair long enough to donate it to a charity that makes wigs for kids who lose their hair to chemotherapy or for other medical reasons. It was a no-effort effort on my part, and now that it’s done hopefully some small positive thing will come out of this long tunnel of negativity. Hair is just hair, I figured, you cut it off and it’ll grow back, maybe, right? Still, I felt a little pang of sadness as I heard the scissors crunch through the strands. I just had another birthday, and the thought that “it’ll grow back” is a promise of time that I’m not entirely sure I have and won’t know that I have until it has already passed. The hair is gone now, it