bravery and trust

For over one year I have had the privilege to admire my wife’s beautiful grey hair come out of hiding, centimeter by centimeter (you can catch up on another grey hair story here). I have also had the honor to witness her, with the gray hair associated, bravery; while I have enjoyed seeing my wife’s natural colors come to life, beautiful silver-white strands of hair and sensual dark hairs of black, my wife has struggled with her feeling of aging thirty years in thirty days, struggled to get used to not caring about other peoples eyes scrutinizing her grey hair; struggled to not feel like a mother to old to be a first-time mum.

For over one year my wife has put her feelings aside in her care for our baby, taking every precaution not to subject him to any unnecessary chemicals or other harmful substances. For over one year I have been telling my wife how much I love her natural hair, how much I love her care for our son, how brave I think she is. But there always comes a time when things change, and this week was such a time. Starting to think about life after maternity leave, my wife felt that time had come to dye her hair again. I was a bit sad and disappointed at first having enjoyed to prospect of all of my wife’s hair becoming a zebra-striped black and white feast for the eyes, but my disappointment soon was replaced by the urge to be supportive to my wife, so we started to discuss how to proceed.

After having found a beauty parlor that only uses organic hair dye, my wife asked me what color I thought she should do – do you think dark brown is ok? I said that if I could choose, I would choose natural black. Really, isn’t that too dark? And what about hairstyle? I looked at her long hair hanging like an inverted droplet down her back; please cut it horizontally, I said. I do not know why, but the image of her hair forming a black rectangle appealed to me. Are you sure, my wife said. Yes I am sure, I said, still without knowing why. I have never had that style before, my wife said. I have never thought about that hairstyle before, I did not say. Instead I said that I really think it would become her. We will see, she said.

Our son and I waited at home, and what a beautiful wife and mother we greeted three hours later – she had taken my suggestions to the letter and had a natural black hair ending in the most beautiful line on her back (an even more beautiful hairstyle than I had imagined). It is very new, but I also like it, she said. My admiration for my wife’s grey-hair-bravery was instantly replaced by a humble gratitude of the trust she showed in me, stepping out into the unknown and trying something completely new.

And my wife’s grey hair – it may be in hiding again, but not forever she has promised, which means that I now have one more thing to look forward to while growing old together. Until then our son and I will enjoy having a beautiful cool mum and wife with black hair and a young smile in her eyes.