Note to readers: This little story was published in a now-defunct literary journal a few years ago. I thought I’d give it a second life. Let me know what you think!
Jayna fingered and spun a strand of her hair as she read the newspaper. She wondered how she would look if she were lost in the woods for a week, finally emerging after a plucky struggle for survival, her hair riddled with twigs and leaves. What if she was on a plane that crashed in a jungle and she was thrown clear of the wreck, one of a handful who lived? Perhaps she would be found, her picture appearing in the paper with dank, stringy hair and a great, big smile, under the headline “Lucky few come home alive.” Or, she imagined fighting off a dark, threatening attacker, some of her hair wrenched out in the process, and later being recognized for her gutsy courage as she lay recovering in her hospital bed, a bandage around her head and her hair poking through. There were so many stories in hair.
She put down the paper and glanced in the mirror at her mop of hair. A rescue helicopter was not going to pluck her from the chemo chair next week. A search party would not retrieve her as she was immobilized for radiation. And there was every possibility she’d duplicate the anonymous death of thousands, just ahead of thousands more. She thought of being remembered well in the obituaries for her adventurous spirit and wonderful heart, followed by gentle words about memorial donations. The most delightful things were said about the dead, but she’d never seen a death notice that eulogized the hair of the deceased.
How would it read? “Her hair was deeply loyal and generous to a fault, never thinking of itself. There are many–too many to name–who will miss her friendly and gregarious locks. Whether at work, at home, or just out and about, her hair was always in the right place at the right time, looking great. The world just won’t be the same without this kindhearted hair–the family is united in grieving a great follicular loss.
“Among us, always shining and sweet,
your passage was too swift, too fleet!
Never again will we see tresses so pure
upon a head so pleasant and demure.”
Jayna pondered adding in something about a quirky sense of humor, grinned at herself in the mirror, then went to get her photo albums to ensure a good selection of photos were visibly handy around the apartment, all of which featured her with fabulous hair.
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Literary wanderings 