India.Arie sings about hair being her crowning glory. Willow Smith whips hers. There is an entire musical about it. Even bands like Rush, Nirvana, and America sing about our obsession with hair. I am no different. I am obsessed. But my hair and I have a complicated history of love and loss. It was a warm night in May of 2007 and my phone was ringing. As I was reached for it I realized my doctor's number was blinking on my caller ID. I picked it up without it even registering that a call at 8pm on a Monday night from your surgeon is probably not good news. But I answered cheerfully never expecting that the conversation that was about to take place would change my life - forever. "Jennifer, It
A piece I wrote for The Underbelly ... “To everything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under heaven…” The Byrds “A time to plant, a time to reap” Spring, the season of promise and new life was when I was told that I had a disease that could possibly end me. This was in May 2007 right around my youngest son’s birthday, that special time of year when the weather is laced with the prescience of summer but the evenings are still a brisk reminder of the winter chill that had recently melted. My spring went from the anticipation of peeping leafy green garden shoots to the inky black terror of the Reaper himself beckoning from the dark corners of
