Autumn has come to Texas. I woke this morning at 3 a.m. to a cold house. I got up and turned on the heat. This morning the kids and I wore jackets. Looking out the window during yoga, I saw the trees had changed color. The yellow leaves, backlit by the sun, flutter in the stiff breeze.
I got my hair cut today. Dean snips away the uneven and brittle ends, leaving me with a saucy flip at the nape of my neck. I have not had hair this long for fifteen years. Leaving the salon, I zip my jacket up against the chill. Hair grazes my collar and falls down the back of my neck. First, I shake my head to hear its rustle in my ears. Then I give my head a little toss, to bring the fragrance of my hair to my nostrils. I savor this, my special treat. Once every other month, for just a few hours, there is perfume in my hair.
The sun is bright but not warm. The flag at the corner bank snaps in the wind.
At the red light, I pinch a lock of hair between forefinger and thumb and bring it to my nose.