THE POWER OF HAIR

One of my best memories is being a young teen and running my quarter horse, Fig, a big sorrel gelding down a dirt road that encircled the little 9-hole golf course my father owned. Me with my long hair, and Fig with his tail, we were a mass of brown hair flying as fast as we could go. To this day, when I think of freedom, my freedom, I think about those moments racing with Fig. When I was little and before I had any say in the matter, my hair was super short, a glorified bowl cut. As I got older and more opinionated, I grew it out, but my mom still dictated the style. There are pictures of me … [Read more...]