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My wooden comb

You have got to see it,

Yes, it’s been used well,

My wooden comb!

You would think it would be more graceful as I slid it through my thick hair, my tight curls,

No!, It’s brutal and it hurts!

Sometimes, for my own sake i have thought of giving up my wooden comb, but I know I can’t for my hair needs my wooden comb!

I have carried my comb…this wooden comb in my bag for as long as I can remember for i had to just in case my hair needed a friendly touch up!

My wooden comb was the one thing mother dared not forget to remind me to bring along.

And oh….. memories created with my father, would be because of my wooden comb whenever he helped me comb through my thick curls. I can still hear his voice telling me how beautiful he thought my hair was. And then of course he would talk about his morning newspaper reads that at the time were just complicated words to me…words for the grown ups.

And, and….. fights, those fights between my brother and I, were because of this wooden comb that I did not intend to share.

And grandma had a story of her own about my wooden comb. She says grandpa made it from the 100 year old tree from the family farm.This wooden comb….my wooden comb.

My wooden comb created the worst moments of each morning for it dug deep and then stuck in my thick hair.

My wooden comb yet created the best of moments once I stood In front of my mirror…..

Again, I will treasure my wooden comb for the job well done!

4 thoughts on “My wooden comb

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