The Hair Cutting Shear

November 4, 2011
By lynn0507 BRONZE, Portland, Maine
lynn0507 BRONZE, Portland, Maine
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Every two weeks, my father asks me to cut his hair. The first time, I grumbled that it doesn’t cost much money to go to the hair salon. He said, “Think how much money you can save each year. With this money I can buy more necessary stuff for you. Besides that, you can learn more skills.” My father is not stingy nor miserly, but he’s an economical person. I’ve learned from him that we shouldn’t waste money on unneeded things.

As the time passed, cutting my father hair became a habit of my life. I enjoy doing this after realizing that I can have more private time with him. Since coming to the U.S., my parents have spent less time with me. They aren't involved with my homework, but instead push themselves in working. So in those haircutting moments, my father and I truly get more connected.

Even so, the monotonous humming sound of the hair cutting shear sometimes put my father into sleep. I still remember every time he took me to job interviews because of his limited English and how many times he failed on them. He was usually quiet at those moments. His disappointment made me mad. I blamed the narrow mind of the interviewer. I blamed my father's poor English. And I blame myself, for my helplessness. I had looked up many jobs opportunities online, wrote an attractive resume, and even learned interviewing tips. My father finally has a job which does not require an interview: a regular labor in a small seafood company. The sense of the seafood sticks on his coat mingles with the sweat after an exhausted working day exhale to my nose every night he gets home, which sometimes my innocent little sister utters to him that she can’t stand it. However, that motivates me to study harder, so one day I will let him enjoy his life instead of working so hard.

My father's hair is turning gray. The haircutting shear moves steadily, revealing some wrinkles on his forehead. I’ve learned that time never goes backward and people have to move forward. Time drifts all those childhood memories away, leading me to head up to the future. Most people have goals to reach and know what they really want to do after high school. But my ambition is vague, such as a road smothered in dust that I can’t figure the right way to go. I don’t yet know what I want to do for a career, or even what I’d like to major in, but I do know that I enjoy studying and engaging to a new community where I can learn to be more responsible and independent. I want to feel the air of the outside world and who I really am. Furthermore, my curiosity about new things drives me to learn. Knowledge is infinite as a book that doesn’t have the last page and education is the only way to expand my knowledge. Therefore, college is the road that I chose. I believe some new experiences will help me to grow up as a mature daughter whom my parents would be proud of. My future is in my hand.

The author's comments:
Life is an endless film whose last episode can't be determined. When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you’re smiling and everyone around you crying.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book