Then, you wore it long and sleek, black and glossy, sometimes hanging down your back to graze your slender waist, but often piled upon your head, pulled back, like a lacquered black frame showing off a geisha print, all clean, bold lines and flawless beauty. I prefer it now, though, soft and silver, whimsical corkscrews, like the ribbons you would scrape along a scissors edge until they became little, festive paper springs. It halos your face like moonlight. Like a light left on to welcome me home.
Written for my mother, in 2014, as part of the mom-box project.