An unexpected loneliness: nit-combing through one's own hair.
I thought it was a particularly bizarre moment of self-pity, and then I remembered the monkeys. Huddled up on ledges; one furtive and brisk with their tiny hands, attention flicking between the meta-environment of other monkey dynamics and the micro-environment of lice and hair and scalp, and the other, sprawled in a stupor of intimate practical touch and shut-eye.
And then I think of the confessional spaces of hairdressing salons and then I think of my mother brushing my hair and then I think, it is perhaps the most expected loneliness of all.
7 comments:
Hey I offer you my services as nit-hunter as of Saturday. Or maybe Sunday. xx
cheers love!
i used to brush my elder sister's hair when I was a teen and she was in her early twenties. Not cos she had nits, just cos she liked it.
It was teh sweetest times we ever spent together,
I used to perch on top of my grandmother's recliner (a delicate balance) and play 'hairdresser' and ditto - sweet times.
shit, i never saw it that way before.
I think it's always quite lonely, to miss the 'intimate practical touch' (beautifully put) we used to experience with hair and it's care - perhaps not such a surprising loneliness after all; the monkeys have it right, I think
aw. I feel that.
hairs are thoughts to me, and when I comb my daughters' hair out I remind myself of how important it is to nurture positive and self-loving thoughts. I hope they are picking up on it...
and I hope that some less lonely thoughts are surfacing for you too.
thanks for dropping by my blog - yes its important to have that line ready 'I write' - I had the opportunity to say it this morning and added that I draw - and miraculously I was asked to submit some of my work for an exhibition (Adelaide Writer's Week)..its worth telling people!
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