All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Their hair
My fathers hair is thick like maple syrup, brown with flecks of grey here and there becoming more abundant as the days pass. My mothers hair is blonde, it has felt ware over the years, straightened, curled, cut, it has even felt the singe of a fire. My sisters hair has never known freedom, pulled into a ponytail every day, up, down, up, down, it knows no rest. My hair is just the opposite, rarely up for it pulls too hard, thick but untamed.
But my grandfathers hair, that is its own story, short but thicker than his skin. Its well kept, clean, combed, but as crazy as the maddest composer, crazy in its own like. When he plays the piano it dances as he shakes his head to the tune. Ghostly white it has turned over the years but thick as ever.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.