Lit Issue 2019 | Prose

Getting my hair combed

I sat on the floor with my back leaning against mommy’s knees while she pulled the comb through my hair. Each time she pulled the comb, she pulled my head back towards her. ‘Ouch, it hurts’, I said.  I could tell that she wasn’t listening; I could almost feel her thoughts flying backward over both of our heads. I tried to look up at her without moving my head. “Still!” Her chin was up and her eyes looked towards the ceiling and I wondered what was she thinking about?