My last color was March 3, 2020–

seventeen weeks ago stylist Lisa

mixed and slathered white roots,

shined and glossed ends, washed

and blew dry ’till smooth, a swinging

golden mane, a date with my husband.

 

Salons are closed due to COVID-19

 

I could color it myself, or I could let

my hair go al naturel. My friend says

“You are going to be so beautiful.” I think,

Aren’t I already? But won’t it make me look

old? I shop for color online…the right shade,

is sold out. I order Apricot Jam. It sits in the

sink cabinet unused. On the path, I check

other women’s grow out. Their’s the same.

 

Salons are open 50%…no blow outs.

 

My stylist will not be back until July,

and even then, they aren’t certain she will.

Two inches of snow on the mountain; a skiff.

Dark baby hair, the little hairs at the temple,

my true color. I decide to take my chances

and schedule with a new stylist–Lauren.

 

Salons are open 50%…masks required.