Angel Hair

As a toddler, I had soft curly hair. As I got older I can remember my mom fixing my hair for me, and even when she pulled it back into a pony tail she would try to keep down some curls around my face. I insisted on smoothing them back, liking the more sleek and less frilly look. Although she relented, I can remember her often running her fingers through my curls when they were free.

When I was in elementary school, my mom used to braid my hair in double french braids when it was wet. After a day or so, we would take it out and I would have kinky, curly hair. My second grade teacher loved it when I wore my hair that way to school and would always affectionately call it my angel hair.

As I got into middle school, my hair started to get more curly on it's own again.  I saw my second grade teacher, Mrs. Bradshaw, one summer when I was helping out in a classroom at my dad's school.  She immediately noticed my curly hair and commented again on my angel hair.  My mom joined in her affections for the curls, still taking the opportunities to fluff up my hair or move them out from behind my ear. 

I went to Tennessee for college.  In the early fall and late spring the humidity transformed my loose waves into tight ringlets.  I fussed over how to make them look right and what to do with them. 

Jewel has similar hair to mine.  Although when it is wet, it reaches beyond her shoulders, when the water weight is gone it bounces up into soft baby curls.  In Georgia, she had the most amazing hair.  I looked forward to every morning, fixing it so that it would be out of her eyes while she played, but not pulled back too much so that the humid air could wrap it into bundles of curl perfection.  All the while we were at the beach, it would become more and more curly, and I would be more and more drawn to touch each curl and marvel at it's softness.  She would shake her head as I ran my fingers through her hair, or even push my hand away.  It really isn't until you are a mother yourself, that you can fully appreciate your own mother.  Of course now I know that it wasn't my mom's lack of fashion sense that caused her to keep whisps of hair out of my tight pony tail.  She just thought I was beautiful, because I was her little girl. 

My little girl is so beautiful.  Her golden hair does curl better than I could have imagined.  Her sweet little face just brings a smile to my heart.  God gave her these eyes...they are the softest green, maybe a little bit of light blue too...they sparkle and sparkle.  And her entire body expresses all that she is thinking and feeling.  I am overwhelmed by her, delighted by her, amazed by her.  And I do just love her angel hair.