Our Hair-Raising Experience

by Linda Nielsen
(Boise, Idaho, USA)

Nearly two years ago, my son decided to start growing his hair.

I figured it was just his desire to experiment with different looks, sort of trying on different hats.

I asked him regularly to wash it (he tends to not want to “waste” the time showering unless specifically reminded), so that it would look decent, but otherwise, I was fine with his longer locks.

It was about ten months later that I learned why he was growing it.

We were in the car, returning from school, and I again mentioned that, although I didn't mind him growing his hair, he needed to keep it clean, more than once a week, please.

At some point during our conversation, perhaps after he complained about how annoying it was, he said, “I'm growing it for a reason, you know!”

I didn't know.

So I asked.

His reply, “Locks of Love.”

He was growing his hair from super-short to at least ten inches – the minimum required for donating to Locks of Love.

Suddenly, it was easier to tolerate the periodic lapses in hygiene – though I still reminded him.

But it was with a gentler feeling, a bit of maternal pride, even, after that conversation.

He had told no one his reasons – until that day.

It was nearly a year later that his hair was finally long enough.

Even though he couldn't wait to get it cut, he wasn't going to cut it before it was long enough to donate.

“I've got this much time invested, I figure I should go all the way” was his reasoning.

The day finally arrived.

It was, barely, long enough to donate.

I had him find a place nearby in the phone book, and we took a quick drive over.

The gal had his hair washed and in a ponytail before I knew it.

Within minutes, he went from looking like a hippy, to being a short-haired, and much younger looking, fellow again.

I think he looks about fifteen now, rather than the eighteen years that he actually is, but I can live with that. And so can he.

He is happy, both to have finally been able to donate his hair, a goal he has been working toward for a couple years, and to no longer have to brush his hair out of his face.

And I learned to look beyond the immediate when judging behavior.