* WARNING: This blog post may appear to be dramatic, emotional or perhaps plain silly to some. And if you feel that way, that is perfectly fine. But if you cannot resist the urge to make fun of my dramatic/emotional/silly side, you may want to stop reading now. If you choose to continue reading and still find this post to be, shall I say again, dramatic, I only ask that you please keep your comments to yourself. Thanks :] I appreciate that.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way.
This past Friday, I packed up my car and my Bean and we heading to the Southern Tier to visit my parents for the holiday. I arrived at lunch time after a fabulous drive with Norah thanks only to Blue's Clues! (Norah's current favorite) A few hours later, I was standing in the kitchen when my phone buzzed. I looked at my phone to see that Denis has sent me a picture. I picked up the phone to see what it was and it was then they my heart stopped briefly. I had a mini freak out, which Rachel witnessed, and so she obviously wanted to know what I was holding back tears. So I told her. The picture that Denis sent to me was a picture of himself... dreadless. He had been talking about cutting his hair for a while now, but I suppose I didn't quite believe he would actually go through with it! Well...he did. Much to my apparent surprise. His long dreaded locks. Gone.
It was only hair.
So why did I cry?
Well... because if hair could talk, those dreads could tell you about every moment of our life as Mr. and Mrs.
You see, the last time that Denis had his hair cut was the morning of our wedding. Soon after that, he decided that he wanted to grow his hair out and have dread locks. He spent the next year growing out his hair, then shortly before Mike and Rachel's wedding he had the locks put in. And they have been growing ever since. I used to tease him by grabbing the ends of his hair and saying "Hey, remember the wedding? You were there..."
If his dreads could talk, they would tell you about how while we were saying our vows, Denis said his first, then when it was my turn he chimed right in and said "I Rebecca..." and the place burst into laughter.
They would tell you that our very first fight in our marriage was over me putting the jelly knife into the peanut butter. (who knew that was frowned upon?)
Or that our very first Christmas together was spent being snowed in our apartment with no food or bed.
And they would also tell you Denis and I have very different feelings about feet :]
If his dreads could talk, they could tell you about the 6 different places we have lived in the past 9 years.
They would be able to tell you all about the hours and hours we have spent in the car together traveling to Philly, to Pittsburgh or to Allegany. All the laughs we shared on those car rides, the dreaming we did, the fights we had, or about all the times we got lost and didn't ask for directions!
They could tell you about our vacations. ( The one to Jamaica was extra special since the natives thought he was a rasta and tried to sell him drugs... sometimes those dreads were trouble)
If they could talk, they could tell you all about our highest highs and our lowest lows. About the joy we felt when we saw those two pink lines for the first time, and the sorrow we felt when days later those two lines became one again.
They were there when Norah breathed her first breath. When she cried her first cry. When she made us a family. Norah used to hold a handful of Denis' hair when she drank her bottle. She would laugh when it ticked her face....
It has seen us through our entire marriage up until last Friday. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset that he cut it, or wish he hadn't. When I saw him for the first time I felt like someone had put me in a time machine and sent me back to 2002. He looks like the man I feel in love with almost 11 years ago. Hair comes and goes. Lord knows I change mine all the time. I guess I was more attached to the dreads than I thought. Or at least the history they held. But I am, and always will be, a firm believer that the best is yet to come. There are higher highs to be had...and probably lower lows. It doesn't matter who are what is around to see those moments. What really matters is the moments are waiting us. And no one else can live them for us. They are ours to have. Ours to hold. And ours to remember.
So if hair could talk, and I am well aware that it can't. It would say "Goodbye. Go live your beautiful life."
Consider it done.
