Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

This evening as we gathered together, I listened to sounds of those that hold us close. One was crying, my first son. He had just used his dad’s clippers to scrap hair off his head. His little brothers and older sister talked about getting him a toupe to cover his head as his dad tried to trim the head back to normal. Everyone was wondering why he took the clippers and not just cut but scraped his head. The clippers were buzzing through the night, so to the large white clock that stood in the middle of our bedroom. The house was clean and smelled like fresh peppermint, while footsteps of little boys darted back and forth the room. Some told their older brother he would be fine. His hair will grow back to normal soon in the new year. Older brother cried wondering why he cut his hair in the first place. Dad continued to cut while I sat and watched my son now cry that he didn’t want to be bald forever. And this is how we end 2024, with the sounds of tears, sounds of clippers, sounds of those that love and hold us close. Keep it.