As I wait for my friends to call me for lunch, for no reason at all, I felt the powerful urge to place my hair in my mouth. I know. No sense right? I suddenly saw myself staring at nothing in particular with my hair in my mouth, my tongue carefully tracing each strand. I ponder at the current state of my hair. It’s dry, limp and prematurely gray… poor hair. For something supposedly “relaxed” it looks too stressed out to me.
I remember how I used to put my hair in my mouth when I was still young. During lazy summer afternoons of summer vacations, I would sit in our yard, look at nothing in particular, and feel the cool breeze on my face, with soft tendrils of hair stuck in my mouth. A whole afternoon would pass by with me looking up in the sky, figuring out the shapes the clouds are trying to form. Or on good days, I’d be slurping up delicious halo-halo bought from a neighbor. (Ok, it wasn’t really delicious, actually it was really bland, but a cool snack on a humid, sweaty afternoon is always delightfully delicious) I didn’t really have any playmates. TV and pocket book marathons were my thing back then.
My friends are calling me. Time to eat. Reluctantly, I let my hair go. It’s wet with my saliva. I don’t mind, sometimes it’s fun to do something stupid and wonder how such a simple act can trigger happy memories of the past. Maybe I should taste my hair more often.