After an hour of wrestling with the kids I was dehydrated and panting like an out of shape old woman. Hair askew and tangled clothes and a couple of bruises later we were crashed out on the floor and the youngest girl looks at me and asks.
“Auntie Nina, are you wearing a wig?”
“No.” I replied. “Why? Is it coming off?”
You’ve gotta love the things kids ask without hesitation. Social cues are so different when you’re young. So – apparently, now that my hair is actually growing back, it looks like a wig. Fantastic!
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[...] As my hair grew in there were a few adventures that I hadn’t counted on, Sunburns on the scalp, hard rain that nearly had me jumping out of my skin with the strangeness of the sensation, people stopping me to comment (mostly good), and random strangers who would open up to me about their cancer stories, and the occasional person that would come up and give me a buff. Then there was my niece asking me if I was wearing a wig. [...]