A Tribute to Me

Kathy at 17 Kathy at 69

The 17-year-old had long hair, was graduating from high school and had her whole life ahead of her.  She was filled with dreams and hopes for her life. She hadn’t a clue as to what was to come. Love, hurt, disappointments, happiness, joy, sadness, depression, alcoholism, recovery, marriage, motherhood, growing old.

During covid I let my hair grow long.  First because no one could get a haircut because everything was shut down, second because my husband, Gregg, love of my life let me know he liked my hair long.  Which surprised the hell out of me because for most of our marriage I had short hair. So I let it keep growing because now I wanted to see how long I could grow it.

The 17-year-old picture hangs on my bulletin board.  It reminds me that we survived everything that was thrown at us.  It reminds me that no matter what happened; good or bad, we kept that smile, kept our optimism, our belief that God wanted us to live life despite our mistakes and regrets and that He wanted us to enjoy the ride

I am so grateful to that 17-year-old me because she never lost hope, not when I hated God, myself or my life. She was always there telling me we could do this. She forced me to ask for help, to get counseling, to understand why I drank. That 17-year-old told me, tomorrow was always another day.  And God was she right. I always thought I’d die young, leave a good-looking corpse, but thanks to that persistence, we can do anything 17-year-old; I’ve been sober 36 years this August, I’ve been married for 38 years and been a mother for 30 years. I’ve learned a lot about myself, I’m an introvert and not really a people person. My faith in God the Father has kept me sane. I’m judgmental and have a deep need to care for people. I have a couple of really good friends which is all I need and family I love deeply.

But at 69 long hair is a pain in the ass to take care of. Washing it, conditioning it, blow drying it and straightening it takes forever to do.  And Gregg says I shed more than the dog does.  So next Thursday I will be getting my hair cut.  Not short but a little below my shoulders for Gregg and in layers for me.  It’ll take no time to wash and dry and style and I am looking forward to it.

The 69-year-old is here to say its been a hell of a ride but I wouldn’t change one bit of it because it was our life.  Together we weathered every storm, every beautiful day and we enjoyed every high and low.  Growing my hair long was a tribute to that 17-year-old me.