To the five gray hairs I plucked out of the right side of my temple yesterday morning,

As if it wasn't enough that I recently turned 35. And not so recently became single. But there you showed up on top of my head. In short white defiance. Like little Napoleans. I was driving in LA (which is perhaps why I was already more self-conscious) and out you came.

I looked at each one of you. Your thick roots. You reminded me of cat whiskers. You looked a lot like cat whiskers.

There were more of you scattered throughout my scalp. But I only attacked the one temple. Where the part is. And I felt somewhat better.

Little gray hairs, I don't know how often you plan on growing. I can't predict if I will be compelled to pull each one of you out. And I haven't even begun to think about dying my hair.

I'm just not there yet.

But thanks. Thanks a lot.

Being reminded of one's mortality is a common occurrence throughout the holidays. I would of thought about it anyways. I didn't need you to remind me.

What I do imagine is collecting all the gray hairs. In a small box.
A nest of hairs.
And maybe there
I will be more happy owning them.