Hair on the pillow

It’s been cold here, so last night I put the flannel sheets on the bed. As I made up the bed, I noticed a dark thread on one of the tan pillowcases. I plucked it off and examined it: not a thread, a hair, dark brown, almost black. Definitely not one of mine. I wrapped it around my finger, remembering when we were first dating and finding one of your hairs on my pillow after you’d gone always made  me smile. A reminder that you had been here, that you were real, that I hadn’t just dreamed you. Maybe I needed that reminder again. Sometimes it feels like our six years together were nothing but a dream and all that is real is loneliness, depression and grief. I opened the little carved wooden box on my dresser that holds your wedding ring and the lock of your hair that the funeral director let me cut at the viewing, and I added this found hair to those treasures.

Speaking of pillows, I put yours back on the bed. During the months I was away, sleeping in borrowed beds, I just had my own pillow and always slept smack in the center of the bed. It felt better, less empty. But in our bed, I find I can only sleep on my usual side… and the pillow helps fill some of the extra space.


~ by hourbeforedawn on February 27, 2011.

One Response to “Hair on the pillow”

  1. many hugs to you …

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