Some people in the family still think we were too hard on her.
They say hair grows, grandparents make mistakes, and public humiliation at Sunday dinner was unnecessary.
Maybe they only see the haircut because it is easier than seeing everything underneath it.
I see a five-year-old standing in our driveway with a single curl in his fist, sobbing because he thought love had been cut off him.
I see a little girl touching her brother’s hair in a hospital room because it helped her believe she wasn’t alone.
And when I remember Brenda sitting there with those papers in her hand and no words left, I still think the same thing: for what she took, speechlessness was the lightest thing she deserved.
