Children don’t always know how to say, “I don’t feel safe.”
Sometimes they say it with silence.
Sometimes they say it by hiding.
Sometimes they say it by refusing to look in a mirror.
And sometimes they say it by reaching for the one person they still believe will listen.
My daughter couldn’t control what happened to her hair that morning.
But she could decide what happened next.
And this time, someone finally listened.
A month later, her hair had begun to grow back.
One afternoon, she stood in front of the mirror and ran her fingers over the soft fuzz covering her head.
Then she smiled.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m ready.”
“For what?”
She picked up the brush.
“To start over.”
I smiled through my tears.
“Okay.”
She handed me the brush.
And for the first time in weeks, I brushed my daughter’s hair.
