An Apology to my Daughter For All the Wrongs I Have Not Yet Done - Part 2

Our princess has long, flowing tresses - as all good princesses ought. They follow behind her in a frazzled bun, pointing the way from which she had come. Look! A corner store! Hurry! The red hand is flashing! Feed the fish! Brush the cat! Don't walk out that door... we're not done here yet.

But when the cat was brushed and the fish was fed and the child tucked in safe for the night, Our Princess let down her hair and combed it out, oh so carefully, over the crawling scalp (scalp her!) and down the lengths of copper and bronze and hard iron gray, oh so carefully.

Oh Virgin Mother, so fair, so sweet

Why does your comb have such fine teeth?

For nits, for lice, oh me, oh my

'Tis not for you, but me, I cry.

When did the light at the end of the tunnel become the dime-store flashlight at the end of the sewer? And why? Be homeless, be unemployed, be broke, be miserable - what for?

Just BE.