My father’s hair is as thin as a needle. His dark brown hair matches his big eyes. My mother has short, light brown hair. Her curls dance from her tiny shoulders. My sister has strawberry blonde hair. Her hair flows like a river. Her hair always smells like radiant red roses. She gets admired for her silky, smooth hair.
But my hair… my hair is blonde. It’s not like my father’s thin, dark hair. It’s not like my mother’s curly hair. It’s not like my sisters rare hair. I can’t comb through my knotty hair with my tiny hands. Instead of growing down, it blossoms out to the side, like flower petals. When the sky cries, my hair sticks to my face. When the wind blows, my hair flys like birds in the sky. I wish my hair was as curly as noodles. I wish my hair was as red as fire. I wish my hair was something special.