Curl

It is a rainy day today. I have been struggling to amuse myself until my friend picks me up at 5:00. The doorbell just rang and, though I expected another false alarm as has been happening a lot the last few days, I unenthusiastically went and opened it. There was a small package sitting there in the rain addressed to me. I happily took it inside to find that my aunt had sent me a present. But the best part was folded up within the present. There was an old, yellowed envelope with the words, "Amie Marie, 12-2-78, Curl" carefully written across the front in my grandmother's precise, left-handed script. Inside was a lock of my hair that she had apparently snipped off just short of my first birthday. The thought that she kept it stored safely away all these years prompted a spreading warmth through my chest.