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.