One time I was sitting at a bus station, when a bus stopped to let out some people and a girl inside the bus saw me and smiled and pointed at me, then gestured at her own hair and pointed at me again and then gave me two thumbs up, basically complimenting me for my hair colour (i think?) and I was so perplexed that I didn’t really know what do do except laugh and give her a thumbs up back.
This was the most wholesome exchange I ever had and I hope she has a good life and gets to pet many cats and I hope she knows I appreciated that a lot.
I’ve been sharing the same picture everywhere but I’m loving my new hair colour (also excited to see my teachers’ reactions when I go back to high school for the first time since I had long brown hair and braces)
“What would I do without you?” I crouch down and squeeze her in a hug, as I do seeing our whole life together: her tiny infant toes and scalp that smelled like baby powder; the first time she tottered over to me; the first time she rode a bike and fell and scraped her knee, and when I saw all that blood on her, I almost died from fright, and I carried her all the way home. And I see beyond it, strangely, glimpses of her in the other direction: Izzy grown tall and gorgeous with one hand resting on a steering wheel, laughing; Izzy wearing a long green dress and picking her way in heels toward a waiting limousine on her way to prom; Izzy loaded down with books as the snow swirls around her, ducking into a dorm, her hair a golden flame against the white.