Lost and found

by cuckoo clover

The previous year had been difficult. Too much grief, too much stress, too much sadness. Mathilde wasn't sure if she was herself then. To start the new year, it only made sense to clear out reminders of the previous. Though she was nervous, since she had never allowed her hair to be so short before.

Snip, snip, snip. Locks of tangled, white hair dropped onto the barbershop floor. Light after the loss of excess mass, the fronds curled beneath her chin. They were short, shorter than they had ever been, but not short enough yet.

Mathilde's fingers drummed on her knees as the cold scissors sliced, and the shaver hummed, melding into a steady, simple mantra. Between the silence, the wind outside stirred and sighed, which humbled her mind and heart.

The prior year had been full of hurt. Old friends lost, opportunities missed, families growing old, expectations crumpled. Who was she this year? Mathilde didn't know her. She had much grief, too much stress, too much sadness for her mischievous self. At the dawning of the new year, it made sense to throw that out and start anew. This year, she vowed to change and be herself again. Even if the change was scary, no flowers grow on comfortable paths. Perhaps the efforts she'll make this year will be worth it.

"How is this, Ms.?" Her pixie-haired twin in the mirror greeted hello. She had her pale complexion, her ruby eyes. But in her eyes shone hope. Gone was the weighted curtain of hair. With the boyish pixie cut close to the roots, she looked fresh, and light on her feet. When she smiled, Mathilde smiled, too. "It's perfect."