Dianne A box came down from the attic today that I knew held some treasures. There were letters from my older son and my daughter when they were away at college. There were letters I had written to my parents after we moved to Kentucky. There was a card to my older son at college written by my third grade son telling his older brother that he “didn’t like being an only child” and that he missed him. The tears were falling, of course, as I continued to sort through these priceless treasures…
Then I spotted the envelope written in Mama’s hand. On the front it read “Dianne McGregor. Lock of hair from September 28, 1957”. 55 years?! I took the envelope outside into the sunlight and carefully pulled out the lock of hair and the small 55 year old rubber band. (For a moment, I felt just like Bruce Willis when he meets himself as a child in the Disney movie, “The Kid”.)
I know now why my youngest has beautiful strawberry blonde hair (besides the fact his two grandmothers did as well). I held the proof in my hands. My hair was clearly blonde. Strawberry blonde.
A year or so ago, I tried having my hair a darker brown. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like me. Someone asked me, “what makes you think you’re a blonde?” Besides my coloring and my memory? I just knew.
So, today, I held the 55 year old lock of hair in my hands. It is the exact same color hair as several of my granddaughters. I was eleven years old on September 28th, 1957…the same age as one of my granddaughters.
I love the study of genetics. The link from one generation to the next. The circle of life…
That must have been an emotional adventure going through all those old reminders of wonderful days gone by… We share hair color (from our youth… my friend, Kathy, artistically creates the color now). The letters are precious treasures, too. beautiful post. blessings ~ tanna
I keep putting off the day that I will finally go “silver” (although there is plenty of it now if I left it alone) for in my heart, I am still thirty. So, for now, I have a wonderful hairdresser who creates a highlight that makes me happy. Yes, it was definitely an emotional time going through the box and reliving all those memories. The box also held the ORIGINAL of the cookbook I did after Mama’s death – which was the original intent for bringing the box down from the attic!
What a great discovery! I like the fact that you remembered / knew, though you weren’t sure why!
There are photographs of me as a child in all stages of blonde hair – from the very blonde during the summer to “dishwater blonde” during my teen years. I just didn’t remember being a “strawberry blonde” but there in my hand was the proof! 😉