One of life’s greatest feelings is having one’s hair brushed. Whenever I am feeling sad or lonely, the best thing someone can do is take a brush and run it gently through my hair. It makes me feels like a little girl, and for a moment I honestly feel life is that simple again.

There’s a woman I know who I used to be very, very close to. Don’t get me wrong, I still look up to her for everything, but we don’t talk that often anymore. But I do miss that very much. My clearest memory of being with her happened two years ago at the end of my sixth grade year. I was crying, getting frustrated about how I looked for my school photo, and just ready to give up and go home.

She was walking around, helping everyone and stopped. She didn’t say a word, but took the comb from my hands, pulled my hair out of its ponytail, and began to pull the teeth through my tangled hair. I surrendered and closed my eyes, and slowly the tears stopped falling. She smoothed her hand over my head and gave me a quick, soft hug. In her arms I got that little-girl feeling.

I see her all the time. On bad days I just have the urge to run to her and hug her hard. I feel the tears arising when I don’t and remind myself of that day, try to remember the feeling, and it soothes me. And if she were to read this through to the end, she wouldn’t even realize she is whom I’m writing about, that I need her to hold me, to brush out the tangles, and make me her little girl.

Because I wish I’d never grown up from that little girl. I wish I still sat on the floor in front of the couch every Sunday and let my mom braid my hair. Because sometimes it hurts so much. Sometimes I just need her to take the comb from my hands. Because sometimes I just can’t do it all myself. Sometimes I just want to give up and let it be tangled.