Cut your hair

Artwork by @justjessdoing_jessthings

“Jimmy, when are you going to cut your hair? It looks like a bird’s nest in the back!” My mom used to exclaim when my hair started to get shaggy. 

“Maybe next month?” I’d reply as a smug appeared on my lips. I enjoyed annoying my mom with my long hair. “I’m going to keep growing my beard too.”

“No Jimmy...no.” She’d moan in frustration. “You look so handsome when it’s trim.”

“I don’t look handsome now?” I’d say, dramatically feigning hurt feelings.

“Well….”

I haven’t gotten a haircut since March in my attempt to only go outside for essential activities. I haven’t groomed my beard either, but that’s more an act of liberation as I have the tools to keep it clean here at home.

Every time I see myself in the mirror, I’m reminded of the playful battles we would have over my grooming. 

“If you don’t trim your beard’s mustache, I’m going to do it myself while you sleep!” My mom said to me many times while I went through a handlebar mustache phase. 

“Shouldn’t I enjoy my hair while I still have it?” I’d retort when my mom would again ask me to cut it. “Look at grandpa,” I would say referring to her dad. “His hair is so thin that his combover starts near his ear! That might be my future!” I’d say laughing as I squirmed out of the reach of my mom’s attempted pinch.

I find myself amused and awed that during this difficult and frustrating time, my brain has been able to conjure these lighthearted memories of my mom. It’s a true reminder, that my mom will always truly be with me. So, when am I going to get a haircut or when am I going to trim down my beard mom? I’m not really sure, maybe next month?