Growing up Parenting Kristin Fuhrmann Simmons











You asked to sit

criss-cross in front of me so that I could

brush your hair


You brought out your comb and elastics and

began to brush to remove any knots


You know me well

I love to style and braid

I have little patience for tangles


Your blonde locks shined

I put my hand on your head and leaned down to kiss you

You smelled of soap and peaches


I forked my fingers and massaged your scalp

you asked me to keep the hair out of your eyes so that you could

see out of the window

The evening light made the room glow with quiet


I nit-combed this hair once

pulling so hard that I hit your shoulder with the spiny tines

your skin reddened and bled a little

My remorse was immediate and swift

Your tears, forgiving


I hugged you and felt your sweet heart against my chest


Now, your hair is clean and smooth

The sun bleached the top strands

As I pulled your hair to make a part

I saw how the summer had tanned your skin


I spied a shimmering piece of glitter in your scalp

A hitchhiker, no doubt, on your dreamy adventures

I wondered how long it had nested there


By Kristin Fuhrmann-Simmons