Monday, June 18, 2018

Hair Combing Stool

There’s a quote that says, “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” – Tom Stoppard
In my space sits not a shrine but a place where memories come alive, imagination flows and courage is embraced once again.
My space has cherished teddy bears, a game of Pick Up Stix, a Spirograph, a Viewmaster and candy – sweet reminders of my childhood. In the corner of my space is a cherished piece of furniture – one that I have thought of and looked for throughout the years. It is called a step stool but my mom called it the hair combing stool and to me that is exactly what it is.

The hair combing stool is where magic was made. My mom called for me to bring the hair bucket (the bucket with barrettes, ribbons, rubber bands, a comb and a hair brush) along with the hair grease and other magical hair ointments. I’d return with the red bucket in my hands, ready to sit down for the hair magic to begin.

It was during this time of hair combing magic that my mom often talked while I listened. It was also time that she listened while I talked. She brushed and combed through my hair, knowing just how tight to braid it. The part in my hair was essential to the hair still. It determined whether there were two braid, three or more. A crooked part meant that I hadn’t sat still enough so tht she could get the part straight. I held a hand mirror watching and taking in her artistic fingers creating a hair masterpiece.

I didn’t have a hair combing stool when my daughters were little. In fact, I looked but never found one. So, they got the next go to - the floor where magic still took place.

When I look at the stool now, my eyes glisten with tears. I want so much to work the magic of the hair combing stool on a little’s girl’s hair so that she can feel beautiful when I say, “All done.” I want to gently brush the curls around my fingers. I want to do beautiful braids that will not only last throughout the day but in a memory in that little girl’s mind of that time where I talked and she listened and she talked and I listened. A place where she smiled in the mirror as I transformed her into feeling like a princess. #blackgirlsareprincessestoo #blackgirlmagic #cherishedmemories #alwaysremember


A Joyful Chaos said...

Aw ...thanks for sharing. You brought back so many memories of the special stool my mother used to have when she did my hair.


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Clipping Path said...

Thank you so much for sharing this article. This is really an informative blog.


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