I have been planning to start this blog for quite some time now. Every holiday or milestone event that passes reminds me of this promise to myself- New Year’s Day, My Birthday, the First Day of Spring, etc. Yet, my plans never materialized. I’ve made all sorts of reasons to procrastinate: I don’t have a great blog photo. What will I say in the “About Me” section? I need to find a better font. I don’t have time to keep this up. You get the picture! Well, if I haven’t learned anything else this year, I’ve learned that life is short and tomorrow is not promised. So, I will begin today. This is not a special occasion or a holiday. It’s just today. Have you made a promise to yourself that you’ve been putting off until tomorrow? What would happen if you began today? Today puts you one step closer to fulfilling the promise, reaching your goal, living your dream. I’m starting today. Won’t you join me?

I thought it befitting that I share with you a poem from my journal (Feb 2010) for this first post. I hope you enjoy it and return to this space often to see where this journey will take us. I suspect that we will both be surprised…

This Hair

Yellowing, rough, with a mind of its own

My gray hair made its grand entrance when I was 19

temples first, behind the ears, and finally, front and center!

As much as I could, I tamed it.

I colored it, gelled it, jammed it

brushed it until it blended.

Now that I’m on the cusp of 35, my gray tresses have taken on a life of their own.

They curl because they can.

They resist taming and refuse to blend.

They dance around my face and have created their own space.

Sometimes they hurt.

But always they demand to be seen.

My mother keeps her gray covered.

My grandmother’s gray sparkled like silver

and though she hated to see it, we let it live.

She died at 91, a silvery Pocahontas.

I wish I had the courage to go natural

to let my tresses breathe

to stop tugging and pulling

painfully forcing my hair to fit

demanding my crown to surrender

come under my control.

This year, I may find the courage.

I may find the courage to face reality.

No more striving,

painfully forcing my life to fit into my adolescent daydreams,

to finally understand my limits

and ask my life what she is trying to say.

This year, I will listen.

This year, I will take the risks.

I will stop trying to build a life.

This year, I will live.

Curly and coarse, with a mind of its own.

It is my natural inheritance.

Maybe this year,

my gray tresses will sparkle like a silvery Pocahontas.