Every time the weather turns humid (i.e., every day in a southern summer) my hair escapes its elastic band and kinks and curls and stretches out in a five-inch ring. After hiking or sports or swimming my head is surrounded by a bouncing shimmering tangle of curls and standing-on-end strays, what we call “the halo.”
On Friday after work I met the Man at our local elementary school to work out. In the back fields there’s an old neglected obstacle course with chipping paint and bowed bars. It’s a perfect workout – start with pull-ups, race through the hurdles, over the pyramid, across the balance beams, up and down the ladders, a quick stop at the parallel bars, another run, more hurdles, upside-down across the monkey bars, another balance beam series, another pyramid climb, and a final round of pull-ups. That’s just one length. Race back and forth five or six times and you have a real workout, more interesting than sit-ups in the living room, and much more fun when you’re competing with your spouse.
This time, on top of the heat, a gentle misty drizzle fell as we ran. Afterwards he turned to look at me, then stopped, admiration in his eyes:
“I’ve never seen your hair with such a truly impressive halo!
You look like you got in a fight with something small and furry…
but it tried it’s hardest.”