As I stood in the window with my compact mirror raised in one hand and my tweezers poised in the other, the clouds parted and the sun shone through my window in an almost religious way, and I saw it. White as God's heavenly robes, there upon my head a single, 2 inch long, shimmering ivory-colored hair.
This first thing I thought was, "What the hell?! This is so unfair! Mom didn't get her first grey 'til she was 30... I'm fucking 27... and this is white, not grey.. are you kidding me?!" I stared at the hair for awhile, turning my head this way, then that, trying to see if the sun had deceived me. I thought maybe it was a cat hair since Ella is less a cat and more a sleeping cap. Or someone else's blond hair that had attached itself to my head and started growing. Or that an elongated piece of glitter was stuck to my scalp. But as I got a hold of it, I saw that what I had doubted was true. It was my own white hair, bursting forth from my own aging follicle.
I considered embracing its presence, letting it grow, being fearlessly salt and pepper. But since it was just 1 hair and only the roots grown out from my last dye job were actually salty, I plucked it out. I sat on my bed and stared at it for a spell, thinking of what could have led me to this point at such a young age. Stress, poverty, touring in a hardcore band (more stress, more poverty.) I wanted to analyze those things, to wonder why they were they way they were, and if I should have done something different with my life (taken yoga, got a steadier job, stuck with metal) but I saw no point. No going back.
I used to love my Grammy's wrinkles because I knew they had formed from a life time of laughter. There was a beautiful story in her face. My face? Maybe not so beautiful but my story nonetheless. So what was adding a single hair to the tale, really? It was just another souvenir from the road.
I got up, walked across my room, and tucked the hair into the smallest of the nesting dolls I bought in Russia. I stared at it laying in the base of the doll for another few minutes, feeling older, feeling old, then I closed it up and went back to the window to finish my tweezing.