I Braid My Daughter’s Hair
It’s been a long time
but this morning
my teenage daughter asked me,
“Mom, will you braid my
hair—one long one in back.”
I ran the brush through it,
the thick and wavy forest
that she cultivates
and I remembered how
mornings when this was
my primary responsibility,
how tangled it would be,
and we’d pretend that
her hair was a bird’s nest
and as I brushed, I’d say,
“Oh, there goes a bluebird,
and there’s a cardinal.”
Never mind that they wouldn’t
ever share a nest.
Today, her hair is brushed
and ready for my fingers
weaving a thick French braid,
and though I haven’t made
those cross-over motions
in a year of Januaries, bringing in
additional hair with each stitch,
the memory of how to do it
is there, like riding a bike or
roller skating on a pebbly
sidewalk, alive with the joyous
noise beneath my fingers.
Knickerbocker- Caroline
The bride, Tammy
Knickerbocker, has a
degree in nursing
and will work
in a pediatric
setting. The groom,
Patrick Caroline, is
pursuing a master’s
in ancient history.
The parents and
their spouses will
fly in from
Dallas, San Diego,
Portland and Reno.
The bride’s sister,
Peggy Knickerbocker, is
maid of honor.
The marriage will
take place in
the shelter of
Boyd Park by
the pond. The
bride’s brother will
officiate. All friends
and family are
invited. Bring a
hot dish to
pass. Guitars welcome.
Karen Loeb’s poetry and fiction have appeared recently in Hanging Loose, Thema, The Main Street Rag, Bloodroot and other magazines. In the past she has received Pen Syndicated Fiction Awards and a fellowship from the Wisconsin Arts Board. Poetry is forthcoming in Coal City Review.
