Different hair. Different stories. Different. My brother’s hair is short like a troll doll yet a deep, shiny black like a shoe that’s just been shined. My sisters’ hair similar yet different. One with hair that always jumps around partnering her boisterous personality. The other with hair that seems to recline as if relaxing, matching her laid back outlook on life. My father, with his cotton candy hair, still there but noticeably thinning after years of work. And my mother with her exhausted hair from all the hours spent with her kids. Finally me with my long hair after a long four years. Different hair. Different stories. Different.