It was around late 2020, well into the COVID craziness, that I said: “Well, I might as well see what my hair looks like if I grow it out!”
This happened shortly after I opened the Coffee House. It wasn’t long after that my mom passed away. Cancer took her at 58 years old.
Among the things she passed down to me (beyond the important stuff, like her unwavering grit.. and some of her prized collection of cast iron cookware) were a bunch of hair ties. Hair ties I didn’t need quite yet, since my hair length was only just entering that awkward teenage stage: too long for proper society, too short to pretend it was planned.
I had read somewhere that the most important thing to do when growing your hair out is to keep getting it trimmed, which I didn’t understand the logic of. Something about split ends. But I guess I kind of get it now. The idea is you have to keep cutting away the damaged parts so the rest can actually grow into something. You don’t just let it go untouched and hope for the best.
Growth, it turns out, still needs maintenance.
I don’t always need hair ties, but when I do, it’s to provide relief from distraction when needed most. Like when working outside and it’s windy. Or when eating soup. Small moments where you just need something to hold things back so you can focus on what’s in front of you.
That’s how I saw her as a mom. Always there when I needed her. But she wasn’t a crutch. She let me fail and learn and grow, but she was there. Present without being a presence you leaned your whole weight on. Available without being required.
My goal as a parent has been to be the same way. In fact, that’s how I view all of my relationships.. family, friends, or the friends I claim as family. Be there for them, always and no matter what, but let them live their own life on their own terms. Hold back what needs holding back. Let the rest fly loose.
So I guess I see myself as a hair tie. Not flashy, not load-bearing, not the point of the outfit. Stretchy enough to take whatever shape is asked of it, and strong enough to hold when it matters.
I’m still growing my hair out. Still getting it trimmed even if I still don’t fully understand split-end logic. Maybe that’s fitting. Maybe the point is just to keep showing up with the same hair ties on my wrist.. hers, now mine.. ready for whenever the wind picks up, or the soup’s too hot, or someone I love needs something to hold onto for a second.
What is your hair tie? Maybe it’s a bungee cord, maybe its an oven mitt or a crescent wrench. Whatever it is, I hope we can all be our own form of hair tie to the people who matter to us.
Warm regards,
Jimerson Adkins