Chop Chop!

The scissors moved quickly and expertly, chop chop, I could hear the work in progress, but I didn’t wish to see.  Past that early jolt when my ponytail was cut off in one move, I didn’t want to see.  I kept my eyes closed and instead, I heard the sound of the comb running through my wet hair and the chop chop of the scissors.

I travelled through my thoughts and my reflections, memories and wishes, longings and sadnesses, hoping to organize my head as it was being relieved of all the extra weight.  I didn’t want to think about turning ugly or undesirable, because I didn’t want to think “for whom?”  Chop chop the scissors went. 

I remembered my friend Soussan in the last days of her life, bald, missing her beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows from round after round of chemotherapy, drugged up and unreachable. 

I thought of Hadi’s sister in Montreal who is also going through chemotherapy to deal with Leukemia. 

Chop chop, I listened, and thought about life as it is and as it goes on, about how much fault we find with here and now, how we worry more about what is missing than what there is.  I thought the sad thoughts of loss and longing. 

I thought about the tears that had been building up in a pond just behind my eyes, unpermitted to move, unforgiven if disobedient.  I thought about the young love happening in my home, and the twinkle which keeps surprising me in my son’s eyes.  I thought about opening that audio file and my unexpected delight at hearing my son sing a complete song in it.  I thought about the delightful taste of pomegranates and yogurt on my tongue, when he encouraged me to “just try it.”  I thought about all the last gazes and kisses, embraces and unuttered words of goodbye, repeated a million times in my life.  I could feel the disobedient pond moving forward and sliding on my cheeks, catching the snippets of hair on their way down.  I couldn’t hear the chop chop anymore, but I didn’t want to open my eyes to see.

I looked in the mirror.  It was still me, with short hair.  Life was intact.  Hope was still around.  My face needed a good washing.


I donated my hair to Wigs For Kids today.

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Iranian Singles

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Meet your Persian Love Today!
Meet your Persian Love Today!