Today I took a selfie to post for a couple of reasons. The first: If all goes as planned, tomorrow my hair will FINALLY again be a few inches shorter and the mess I’ve made of my bangs over the last eight months will be corrected.
The second: I’m finally giving in to the idea of using a scarf on days like this. I have beautiful knitted/crocheted scarves that were gifts of friends, and they’re great when winter hits for its short season in Houston. Those scarves are too thick and heavy for the brisk days of fall. I like this shirt–it’s an old one that’s the ideal weight for this weather and has the three-quarter-length sleeves that I prefer. The V-neck offers me little relief from cold air, however, so today I added a scarf. It worked just as I hoped. Is wearing a scarf an old lady thing? That’s fine. I am an old lady.
Somehow, all of this brought me full circle to a post that’s been percolating in my brain provoked by a quote I recently read about kindness. Some of it is based on a thought I had yesterday in reaction to a news story: It’s like six years of an abusive relationship has suddenly spun itself into an infinite loop. It was the “six years” that startled me. It’s the number of years–1980 to 1986–that I was in two successive (albeit VERY different kinds of) abusive relationships.
The writer part of me wishes for a way to weave this all together. The private part of me is not inclined to do so.
Is the scarf protecting my throat or warming my voice? Maybe both? Bags to unpack for days… Like the ones under my tired eyes.
ETA: This post has been edited because I erred in what I remembered about a quote I read, and that led to a discussion in comments based on erroneous information, so that comment thread is now unpublished, as well.