Joyful Loss - A Fifty Word Short Story
Joyful Loss
Locks drift to the floor, landing hard. Eleven years I’ve cultivated this: you, more your own than mine. A small thing: a braid you couldn’t make yourself. A small thing you needed my touch for. Shorn, I fear, you will need it no more.
I mourn, joyful, and fiercely proud.
About this Short
As anyone in the Isle of Write Pub yesterday knows, my littlest baby girl got a haircut. That's her in the picture above, taking photos for her Black and White Challenge. So yeah, she's not a baby. But she's my baby even at eleven, just like her fifteen and eighteen year old brothers will always be my babies even though they are young men.
Moms get it.
Lily Rose has been such a joy. In many ways it wasn't until having a daughter that I truly began to understand "sisterhood" in the sense of kinship with women who aren't really kin, which is strange, I know. But raising her in a world of Harvey Weinsteins and Donald Trumps raised in me a longing for her to have a different experience as a woman than my own, which I touch on here. I spent years attempting to instill in her a sense of autonomy and self-respect, a sense of confidence and capability, and a willingness to choose what is right for her provided she does no harm to another.
All of which bit me beautifully in the ass yesterday. I was brushing out her hair to braid it, a routine I cherish. She is so independent that she rarely lets me do anything for her, and as the youngest, she is my last touchstone to those moments long ago when toddlers clung to me for comfort and crawled into our bed after nightmares. These few precious minutes when she stands and lets me gently untangle those knots... they are magical.
At least they were for me.
For her they were a misery. However careful and gentle I am there is always a snag or two, and really just the time spent having it done (longer, the more careful I am), is time she would rather be--well--doing anything else on earth. And as she winced and squirmed and I apologized, she said the dreaded words: "I want to cut my hair short."
More specifically she said, "I want to cut my hair short, but then everyone tells me, 'Oh never cut your hair, it's so beautiful!'" It's true. Strange women tell her this in public. Like touching random pregnant bellies uninvited, I think this is an urge women should resist.
The radical individualist who lives within erupted to the surface. "It's your damn head, you do what you want with it!"
And so she did. And I am so proud of her for doing what she wanted and not what she feared others wanted of her. And I'm so happy for her because she absolutely loves her short, short hair. But it is so bittersweet, losing that small thing: that braid she couldn't make for herself.
Check her out, she's @lilycat83 and you can read her confidence
in her BNW Photo description. I love this young woman!
Many thanks to @miniature-tiger for bringing back the 50-Word Shorts, which are incredibly fun to pack with emotion, even if mine did apparently require about another 450 words to feel like you were picking up what I was laying down.
If you find this worthy, kindly upvote. If you think others might be moved or find pleasure in the reading, a resteem would be lovely. And if you want to read more of my oddball fiction and nonfiction alike, it's as easy as a follow. Regardless, won't you peruse my latest?
Regret - A 50-Word Short Story
Hair o' the Dog-Part 1 of 3
Hair o' the Dog-Part 2 of 3
Annie's Surprise
Toothache
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I love this so much, both - the short and the love story that follows. Not such a small thing, that Jess. Not for either of you, only you're the only one that knows it already, hence the mourning of it..... One of these days when she's much older, she'll pine for that too-long and touch of your hands untangling the strands. And she too will miss it.
Thank you, I knew you would get it hugs
As a mom who has worked so hard to break out of the generational dysfunction whilst raising my own daughters in this world... to raise strong independent women and even the haircut, I get. My daughters have always been so strong and have shaved their heads more than once.
It's odd, this raising daughters thing. It's so hard, so rewarding, so painful and yet reassuring and happy making to see them grow up without the chains we may have had growing up. To see them become strong, independent women in ways that I wasn't at their ages... it's a beautiful process.
This is such a beautiful post and brought up so SO many thoughts about daughters nad parenting for me. Great job.
Thank you so much for sharing these thoughts. It is a bittersweet process for sure, but I'm so happy to meet other moms walking these same roads. Hug
Oh man, what a lovely story. Thanks for sharing. Although my son is 7 and daughter is turning 5, we have small moments like this, so I can understand. I imagine these thing only get emotionally heavier as they get older.
There are things about their current ages that I will not miss, and things I will. There are aspects of having adult children I look forward to, and also fear. Amazing, the challenges and beauties at each stage in life.
Thank you, your comment was a beautiful story ❤️
I look back on my own daughter whose beautiful tresses I used to braid. I understand this story. hugs
A bittersweet tale Jess and beautifully told, in both short and lengthened versions!
Thank you :) And thank you for the inspiration!
Yes.
I should say more, but all of this yes.
Brevity certainly suits you. It takes impeccable word choice to present a piece of fiction is such a concise fashion, and you’ve done so wonderfully.