When we're born, our hair is new. It's shiny, and soft. In it's natural state. Untainted by the world and all of its harshness.
It's not broken, or weathered. It hasn't been changed by something that seemed like a great idea, but doesn't always turn out that way.
It's in its purest form. It is innocent. Untouched.
Sometimes as life goes on, our hair changes. It falls short. It can stay long and strong for a while, and then suddenly break. It's bright and vibrant. It gets dull, and tired.
Sometimes we need to cut off the dead parts, to make room for new growth.
There are times when we know we need a change, but we are scared to make that step.
Times that our hair has been the same way for way too long. It's weighing us down. It's tangled, and knotted. Lacks luster.
As we grow older, we learn what's best for our hair, and stop trying to find a temporary fix.
We find a happy place for it that we know works best, and is pretty easy to maintain. It's natural, it's shiny, but not screaming "Look at me!". It's out of harms way. We've learned how to protect it.
So we nurture it, feed it, and work on continuous maintenance so we are always at peace with it.
Our days of looking back at it and saying "What was I thinking?" have come to pass.
The road is long. It's wavy. It's curly. It's straight. It's bright. It's dull. For some, it's short.
It's in your hands. It's whatever you make it.