The thought comes to me yesterday while I am sitting quietly in the hairdresser’s chair, listening to the wet locks fall against the mat below me: those frayed ends have been around for awhile.
They’ve seen things I’d like to forget, and they’ve also stuck with me long enough to watch me build a better version of myself.
(I’m still working on that … and always will be).
Meanwhile, new hair is growing: soft little baby wisps that frame my face, reminding me that, cell by cell and bone by bone, the body has a way of beginning again:
My skin cells slough off and are replaced every four weeks.
My taste buds are renewed every ten days.
Six years from now? I’ll have an all-new head of hair.
Ten years and I’ll have a totally new skeleton.
Oh, friend … Maybe our bodies are telling us something. ❤