Sometimes, little noses greet the roses,
Usually, I'm prompt to write in my children's journal based on something they've done or said, but this time, a photo of my baby girl was the source of inspiration.In the photograph, she is about three years old. Her hand is under her chin, she is staring directly into the camera and her hair is…
I fell in love with my hair in the tenth grade.
Juliette, a young single mother who rented a room in our basement, washed and set my hair with small rods. When she removed the rods, my hair stuck to my scalp like sixty-five tiny black caterpillars. I hated it.For days, I brushed and pulled my…