Yesterday, my hair was unruly. Actually, during this in-between stage, it’s usually unruly. The curls go everywhere and it feels like a giant, brown football helmet most days, one I want to take off. Except, last night, as I looked down at him from on top, my hair bouncing around and curls flopping over my eyes, he reaches up, slides his hands into it and says, “I love your hair.” And, I can’t help but love it, too.
Diary of a Married Woman
Power Exchange and Letting Go……..
ahhhh!!!!!
Exactly. Near sixty years old, I come down the stairs into the kitchen in the morning, and Papabear looks up from the paper and says, “You are so beautiful.” Who am I to argue with The Boss?
🙂
I might just throw away all of my mirrors.