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Just the Way You Are

From his bottom bunk he wants to know if it is true.

“If what?” I say.

I have only just knelt beside him. Only just settled this hip here and that one there. Only just swept my left hand across his hair.

His chest rises quickly. “Your haircut,” he says.

He turns his face to look at mine, the blanket slipping from his naked chest.

My haircut? I cannot pull meaning from his question, and so I ask. “What about my haircut?”

His eyes settle in sadness, and he reaches for my hair, the hair that still smells like yesterday’s chili, and he runs his fingers over my head.

“Is it true you’re going to cut your hair…short?”

And I think for a moment before I nod. At which time my boy frees both his hands and begins stroking my shoulder-brown-won’t-do-anything hair and says, “but…

but I like you just the way you are.”


One Response to “Just the Way You Are”

  1. Jackie says:

    The beauty of a child is they love unconditionally. It will probably take him a whole 30 seconds to adjust to the new you, then he’ll want to know what’s for dinner.

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