Accidentally Blonde
I was a blonde once, by accident. For a year, maybe more.
It started with my sneaky hair stylist, who sported a spiky platinum ‘do herself. I wanted a change, nothing shocking. Just a spot of blonde, a wisp at my temple.
I was mid-divorce and needed something new. Something bold. Something me.
Or maybe something not me.
The wisp became a streak. The streak multiplied asymmetrically and soon became reminiscent of a zebra. Not so much later, the stripes became a layer and, shortly, the layer a helmet.
One morning as I brushed my teeth I caught my own eye in the mirror and gasped, stunned to find that I was blonde. I didn’t know, then, how it had happened, with me unawares.
Maybe I lost sight of who I was.
Or maybe I never knew.
I went out for a run to think on it, and it brought me to my senses.
The next day, I came back to me. Brunette. Mostly. Except for the wisps of gray sometimes peeking out at my temples.
Now in the mornings when I brush my teeth and catch sight of myself in the mirror, I know exactly who I am.
I smile through dribbled toothpaste, and then go out for a run.
More Than Running... 
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