I found it on my head among all the brown strands.
It is not brown. It is not any color. It is white.
It is my first gray hair.
It reminds me that my mother has been dyeing her hair since I was born (when she was thirty one) because of how gray she was. My sister hasn’t sported her actual hair color in a decade, so I assume she has no idea whether or not she’s graying, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s on purpose. And now, with me not even twenty seven yet, I may very well be on my way to my legacy.
I’m going to go cry myself into a gallon of Peanut Butter Cup ice cream now.