A Hair Story

Nan and I did not always see eye to eye. Our personalities were so similar that it caused some contention between the two of us. However, one of my sweetest memories with my Nan was playing with her hair. She loved it when I would ask if I could! If we were at her house, I would grab a chair from the dining room for her to sit in, place a towel around her, and hand her a cup of water to hold so I could dip her comb in it and wet her hair. She would sit and watch a show (usually The Bill) while I would spend that time combing her hair, putting rollers in it, and massaging her head. Sometimes she would close her eyes, and sometimes I would pull too hard when a roller would become stuck. She never complained; instead, she always reassured me that I couldn’t hurt her. If she were at our house, then I would simply jump up on the back of the couch and repeat the same thing over and over. Our sessions ended with her giving me 50 pence. The next day, I would head down to Dillons (Nan’s local shop) to buy a chocolate bar. Honestly, I would have done it for free. I loved it! I don’t know how it started, but I am glad it did. I know Nan used to be a hairdresser. I’m not sure if she had schooling for it or where she went, but I know she cut hair at a psychiatric hospital. She spoke highly of the people living there. The memories I have of playing with my Nan’s hair are some of my favorites. In those moments, we weren’t arguing or upset at each other. We were just a Nan and her Granddaughter enjoying being together.. In those moments, both of us were just where we wanted to be.