Losses and Founds

As I’ve said before, this last year and a half has been of losses and founds. The founds much more valuable than what’s been lost. I know this. I never want to forget it. Mostly I don’t want to forget it because I have a feeling at my age, the losses will become more and more frequent and valuable. For now the founds-those things that come in to take the places of all that’s lost-are priceless.

What brought these thoughts on is my woeful hair. The medications, probably the prednisone has played havoc with my hair. What was once thick and curly and what we use to call dishwater blonde is thin and straight and graying. My beautician doesn’t recommend a perm or coloring until my hair’s stronger, but—

I just read a flyer from the Chinaberry catalog from 1999. The writer had an epiphany. Why was she investing time and energy into deep conditioning her damaged, thin hair, then pinning it back in a bun because it looked so sad? What was she holding on to? She wasn’t Rapunzel. Neither am I. I once had beautiful hair. It was the most mentioned thing about me in my yearbook autographs, but my hair isn’t me. And I’m no longer her-that person in the yearbook. I never will be again.

Truth is I really don’t know that I’d want to be, if that was possible. She had her problems, too.


We do hold on to things better let go of. Sometimes it’s hard to know if you should let go or hang on. Stick with your writing until you succeed? Or give up? And is letting go the same as giving up? I think we mixed up the two things. We cling to things that clearly no longer work, but give up on things that get difficult.

So, I’m trying to do that as I look in the mirror and mourn what once was.