My twelve-year-old daughter, Emily, had always been known for her hair.
It was thick, chestnut brown, and unbelievably long. It reached well past her hips, and she treated it almost like a treasured possession. She spent hours brushing it, braiding it, and experimenting with different hairstyles. She refused to let anyone cut more than the tiniest amount from the ends.
Whenever I suggested a trim, even as a joke, she would immediately shake her head.
“Never, Mom. You’re going to have to bury me with it.”
Sometimes she would hug her hair dramatically and add, “Mommy, I’m never cutting my hair. Ever.”
I had laughed every time.