Little Pieces of Art

When I was growing up I had short hair because my mom wasn’t skilled at doing anything with long hair. I longed for hair down to my butt. Like Crystal Gayle. Hair forever that could be braided and ponytailed and bunned like all the girls in the movies. I had hair so short a man once said to me at Dairy Queen, “What can I get you, son?” The horror. But when I got old enough, I grew it longer, and taught myself how to French braid and fish braid and everything else I could possibly do. Which isn’t easy because you can't see the back of your head, but we can do hard things.

I became the designated French braider in junior high; my friends would line up on the stairs during hall breaks and lunch and I’d twist their hair between my fingers and make little pieces of art.

It’s one of the simple but totally heartwarming things I love about having a little girl, and to this day one of the few things I can do that takes me outside of myself, if only for a few minutes.

So, you know, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”