The things you remember…

When I was really small I used to watch my mother roll her hair.  Her hair was long and think, and she parted it carefully into squares and extended her arms and would wind the hair around the pink sponge roller.  I was so excited that day she came home with black sponge rollers.  It was like the “hair rolling industry” finally realized that there was some hair color besides blond.  She kept them in a plastic bag with her “wild root cream” or what ever hair condiment she was using at the time.  She always kept them in her bathroom in the cabinet under the sink.  The responsibility of rolling Mama’s hair was passed down by age.  First my oldest sister did it, then the sister older than me and then, finally it was my turn.  I loved being the one to roll Mama’s hair.  I would carefully part her long thick into sections and wrap the roller paper around the black sponge and then slowly and carefully wind her hair around the roller.  From time to time she would get her hair cut but it would always grow back it seemed thicker and longer.  I would sit on the couch and Mama would sit on the floor in front of me and as I rolled her hair we would talk.  Some times we watched TV or talked about a book that we’d both read.  Mama was such an avid reader.  If I was reading a book and put it down to go hang out somewhere, she could have it finished by the time I got back.  When I got older I didn’t have time to do her hair anymore.  the truth is i didn’t want to.  I had better things to do that to roll my mother’s hair every night.  In January of 1994 she called me at my house in Charlotte.  She told me that doctor said it was cancer.  She was going to have to have chemotherapy.  She lost all her hair.  It made me sad to see he bald.  I remembered how much I had loved rolling her hair and how we bonded over the experience.  When I took my kids home to see her during their spring break I brought her a hat with a black ponytail attached to the back of it.  She put that hat on and went outside and blew bubbles.  That’s the last memory my children have of her.


~ by Diva2de on April 24, 2012.

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