A Perfect Head

Got a text at noon from Vicky. I thought it was an autocorrect problem, so I asked for clarification...

That is so like her. Just a matter-of-fact statement: "Hair falling out today."

I thought to myself: If there ever is a day that needs to be marked, celebrated -- acknowledged -- it is today. This woman is losing one of her great marks of beauty -- her natural blonde hair. Not a trace of gray in it, just rich brushstrokes of gold and flax, brilliant in the sun, soft in the lamplight.  

I wandered around City Creek, looking for something to mark the occasion. I read somewhere, and it rang true, that these milestones should come with prizes. Found myself in Nordstrom, wandering cluelessly through the women's department, completely out of my depth, but determined and desperate to buy her something nice and finding myself crying as I walked past the dresses and the purses and the perfume and the sales associates. 

So silly.

I finally found a couple of gifts, then headed over to Harmon's to buy a cake, then jumped on the bus.

When I got home, Parker was busy making dinner...

It was a lavish and decadent spread...

And we all were in heaven...

We were so honored to have Parker there. This whole occasion only came up this afternoon, and Parker immediately sensed the magnitude of it. He had a very important appointment with a fellow musician to do some song co-writing in the basement. He'd already had one appointment with the guy fall through, so this was a big deal. When he found out about Mom, he promptly canceled the appointment and spent the whole evening with her. Even cooked her dinner. 

And that was probably the happiest time of the day for her, eating the superb food that her son put before her, hearing his cheerful talk about the adventures he'd had acquiring the ingredients and his near-miss cooking the beans.  

In the meantime, members of the family from far and wide sent emails about Vicky and her great hair adventure. Here are just a few:

From Jane:

"As Grandpa used to say, "God only made a few perfect heads. On the rest he put hair." Vicky must have a perfect head.

From Sarah Jane:

Make sure to save a few strands for Mr. Ollivander. I'm sure he could make good use of them.

(Parker had to remind me that Mr. Ollivander was the wand-maker in Harry Potter. I had to agree with Sarah Jane that Vicky's hair certainly does have potent magic in it)

From David:

"Ellie and Brooke are excited to wear pink wigs in solidarity."

From Farrell:

"Stars will fall from the sky"

From Laura:

Vicky has such a wonderful nucleus of support, and this, we're sure, will make all the difference in the world.

From Laurel:

"Now?? Tonight??  I think I need more time to adjust!"

From Mom:

Instead of women the world over imitating the beauty and style of Vicky’s hair, they will find, since Vicky’s head is bald and she is the golden standard for hair, they will shave their heads also and then try, unsuccessfully, to compete with her on the way to dress them fashionably.

And this funny thing from Claire:

O' my darlin', O' my darlin'

O' my darlin' , Alopecia.

You are lost and gone forever,

Dreadful sorrow, Alopecia.

And then it was time. 

I will not lie. Vicky cried as if her heart would burst as I readied and clicked on the clippers. I thought my own heart would break.

And then, after the clippers made their first clean swath through her hair, she was ok. And when I was done, she was dying of curiosity to see it.

She indeed has a perfect head. And two adorable cow-licks right at her hairline. The other day, Farrell told me that Vicky was a classy lady. And looking at her with that chic buzz cut, I thought: That class had nothing to do with her hair. In fact, she's even classier than before.

I have never seen a more beautiful woman...