I cut my daughter's hair today. I know that doesn't sound too momentous, but it was for me. She has had long hair since she was four years old. Before I began today, I measured it and it was 33 inches from her crown. Thirty-three long, shiny, beautiful, light golden brown inches of hair that I have brushed and braided two or more times a day, every day, for many years. I complained sometimes. We argued on occasion. There were even tears at times (mine/hers/ours) as we combed through the tangles that somehow magically appeared in her crowning glory. But more often than not, we bonded during those hair brushing sessions. We talked. She talked. I listened. I talked. She listened. I told her stories from when I was a little girl. She told me stories of her hopes and dreams. Good times.
I understand that she wants to grow up. That she needs to separate from me. That she doesn't want me "doing things" for her as much as I used to do. She wants to do them for herself. She is twelve now, and I remember how hard it was to be twelve. I try to give her as much freedom and independence as I can, while making sure she knows how very much I love her and that I am here if she needs me. Cutting that long, beautiful braid that was such a symbol of her childhood was one of the most difficult things I've done in a long time. But...
It is her hair. Her body. Her decision. And I am proud of her for giving up something that had actually become part of her identity. For years, she has been "the girl with the *really* long hair". Strangers often stopped us and commented on the length of her hair. For a long time, she did not want to cut it for this very reason - it set her apart, gave her distinction from other little girls her age. Made her feel special. But now she has decided that she no longer needs nor desires that particular affirmation. She is amazingly secure in herself and her decisions, and for that I am so very thankful. But I am also sad today, because I wish I could keep her little and safe for just a few minutes more, brush the tangles out of that long, beautiful hair just once more while listening to the soft-spoken dreams, hopes, and wishes of my beautiful little girl... She is growing up... And I am not ready...
