So I shaved my head. If you know me you know I like to make things deep when they don’t seem that significant, and that applies to this haircut. Let me tell you why.
It's winter in the early 2000’s and my three older siblings and I are taking turns sledding down our neighbor’s driveway in a large, three person sled. I was strictly told to not sled alone and to always have one of my siblings with me so they could help me maintain control. I thought that was lame, I wanted to go fast and I thought the best way to do that was to deny my siblings’ help and go solo. So I went off in the sled alone and, of course, immediately lost control and ended up sledding under our neighbors car that was parked on one side of the driveway. I don’t remember hitting my head, but when I came out from under the car my brother took my Pokémon beanie off to reveal my scalp had been split open. “I can see your skull!” he said as I looked down and fainted from the sight of red snow.
Visions of panic and fear create gaps in my memory until I awoke in the hospital with a shaved head and a dozen staples to hold my scalp together. A large scar on the left side of my head carves out this memory of a near death accident, like a signature from death allowing me more years upon the earth.
So I shaved my head. Why? I shaved my head to see my scar again, and embrace it. I shaved my head because, once again, I am away from my siblings alone in my own sled. Since I go to school in Colorado and they still live in Kentucky we see each other about two weeks out of every year. My scar reminds me the importance of their guidance in my life. I seek their counsel and support intentionally knowing that sledding alone isn’t good for me, it’s almost killed me before. I love you guys, I miss you guys, I wish you were here but I feel as if you are. I promise I won’t go alone.
Photos by Jon Caliguire