Twirling

            I was a little afraid that the wig would go the way of the eyeglasses and never be seen again; when I arrived the next week and saw that it was still in the bag where I’d left it, my heart sank. “Have you worn it at all?” I asked, fearing for the answer.

            “No,” she admitted. “I was afraid of it.”

            I laughed at her. “Why?”

            “Because…I don’t know. It sits there on that head thing...it’s scary. And I’m not sure how to put it on. You take it out and put it on me.”

            “Have you shown it to any of the nurses? I’ll bet they would help you if I’m not here.”

            Nellie looked sheepish. “I didn’t tell anyone yet.”

            So we took out the wig and brushed it gently, trying to part it down the side instead of the center and place the barrette so that the hair wouldn’t fall across her forehead at all. Then we adjusted it on her head, tucking her own multi-colored hair back underneath the edges. Nellie looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. “Let’s go out in the hall and show someone,” she said excitedly.

            Several nurses and aides were roaming the hall, and Nellie made me wheel her over. She said nothing, but looked expectantly at them, turning her head this way and that—for all the world like a little girl in a new dress, twirling to show the world how beautiful she is. They rose to the occasion, exclaiming over her new hair. “You look so pretty!” they told her…and it was true.