When I Was Just a Girl

By the time I was 6 I started to lose my curls, blonde reflectors of the sun. Frizzy, as I paid no mind in containing them. As the curls faded I became shy, suddenly an awareness of the way I looked in the classroom. Crying when my mom left me each morning, crying when I had to learn how to write a “Q,” and still it’s not perfect. I say “I” but truly have little-to-no connection with that girl - we have different brains now.

And so my curls came back, slowly. Along with a sense of confidence, slowly.

I wouldn’t trade them for the world. But on days when they refuse to be contained, I am my most self-conscious; as if I fear reverting back to that little girl who paid no mind in containing them.

Maybe it’s time to fly, maybe it’s time to see the reflection of the sun in my curls again, as did everyone else when I was just a girl.