There’s a woman on the bus whose roots never change. Hair like cotton candy, the whitish color of the season’s first corn, the dark-brown roots are always an inch and-a-quarter long.
I’ve been riding the bus for just short of six years, I see her at least eight times a week, and the reverse-skunk effect never seems to change.
How can that be?
One imagines a scenario where the sun rises at exactly the same time every day, the barometric pressure always steady – like that, her hair remains in need of a touch-up, forever.
What’s it to you?, I hear you saying.
I say this even to myself.
What’s it to me?
But how can it never change? Trust me when I tell you that I don’t care about her lousy hair style – I just want to know why those roots never change!
Seems like something I should be able to understand, doesn’t it?
How can it always be in the same need of a touch-up?
Just about every morning, she takes her usual place directly behind the bus driver. And just about every morning, I take my place closer to the back of the bus.
What is it to me?
Nothing. It’s nothing to me.
But maybe it’s a sign that I need to look at myself.
What about me has not changed? What about me is obviously, glaringly, in need of a touch-up?
Because you know there’s something.
Because there’s always something.
She was there again, this morning. The same cotton-candy hair, the same roots.
We all have our “roots”. But how many are visible?
Winter mornings and pottery
3 hours ago