perhaps that description
is a mild exaggeration,
but this is not what i
expected of my fifty-four
year old head of hair. dad’s
was mostly white and very
thinning in his early 30’s,
he used to tease that mine
by then would be exactly
the same. and sure enough,
my peppery locks began to
show their salt sometime in
my 30’s, and since then it’s
gotten a bit whiter, for
certain. and there was
a small period of time
when it began to really
thin out, but that was
over a decade and a
half ago now, and my
hair is pretty much the
same now as it was then,
save for what appears to
be a bald spot, or what
could be (and has been)
mistaken for a snow white
yarmulke right at the tip
of my noggin, but, as it
turns out, that’s just a
super-white patch of
hair. the hair’s there,
and yes, it, like the
rest of me, gets
older and older,
but, and perhaps
especially because
of my father’s teasy
premonition, it’s one
little thing to celebrate
every time i get up of a
morning and look myself
in the mirror, readying for
a shave and such. and i do.
