Dear precious child,
I am giving you a gift. These locks may not seem like much, but there is life in my hair. I am not just giving you a wig to cover your beautiful bare scalp; I am giving you memories to have as your own. Many moments you may not have experienced in your little sick world of medicine and hospital stays.
You are officially a part of me, and I am a part of you. Therefore, you hold the life I lived and the part of me that remembers. I take on your suffering and your suffocating existence of illness. We have a bond, through this gift. This piece of me holds all the days I lived for the past few years. And as I relinquish it to you, I in turn, embrace your young and innocent heart.
My sun soaked locks have spent countless days outside in the fresh air. They have witnessed beautiful beams of light and singing sounds of laughter, at parks and playgrounds and sporting events. There may be dirt engrained in the strands from trails of landscape and creek beds I have walked. You may feel gritty sand from beaches and perhaps tasted salt from the sea. The smoky smell may linger from bonfires and cookouts, fireworks and parties. Please forgive the pungent sting of chlorine, but take in the swell of excitement going down the spiraling water slide for endless hours at the pool.
There may be glitter left from costumes donned on Halloween nights, the smell of pine from Christmas trees and littered confetti thrown on New Year's Eve. Perhaps exhaust still soaks these strands, from traveling near and far. There's sure to be leftover perfume from festive formal affairs. The pungent odor of animals from safaris may remind you of the wildlife I was blessed to see. And you may delight in the greasy sweet aroma of cotton candy and funnel cakes from the hot summer fairs. The stink of sweat may linger too, mixed with humid air. Please forgive the gray shimmers that whisper my age, consider them to be new-found wisdom that has grown through the years.
As I hold out hope for you to age too.
So much life lived into every strand. Now yours... relive those days in your precious heart as best you can, until your time comes, to do the same. I will always have you in my heart and on my mind, wondering how you look and wondering how you shine.
Oh sweet one, I will pray for you each time I comb my hair.
Ten long inches shorter now, those locks no longer there.
They're on your head, full of life all around your face.
If I could, oh beg I would, to take your precious place.
And give you all the time and joy to embrace what I have done
So you could truly live the life, and relish what's to come.
Free of pain, free of fear, free to simply be~
Full of living... Full of life... A child...
And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
A version of this post was originally published over at TheMomCafe.com.