My mother has dark brown hair, as dark as the night sky. Her short and shiny hair lacks the vibrant color it once had. My sister, like my mother, has dark hair, but with a twist. Her long curly hair, curls perfectly like the slide at the park. Her hair has always been stretched down to her shoulders, laying flat against her neck. My father once had dark brown hair, stick straight like crowds lined up in rows to create order. His hair is so short it screamed for attention attracting the eyes of those surrounding.
I also, like my mother, sister, and father, have dark brown hair too. Mine is long and straight with some bending, reaching for the looks of others. My hair will become frizzy when I wander outside on a hot summer day or when the warm rain drizzles down outside.
But my brother’s hair is different. He was born with the bright, blinding, blonde hair that sticks up straight like the feathers on a baby chick’s head. His hair is all sprawled out, with no order. He tries to tame the timid hair but has no luck as it’s pacing itself before it goes back to it’s own ways. His hair feels the stress, screaming out for attention and calling out to others while he stands next to our dark brown hair. The contrast of our dark brown hair to his blinding blonde, apparent to all around us. The blinding blonde hair, apparent to all around us.