When he was born, his head of full dark straight hair was his noticeably outstanding feature. Within the first few months of his life, his hair departed in small tufts until he was entirely bald. Despite reassurance, I cried and I worried that it wouldn’t grow back. But it did. And when it did, it was thick and curly and bouncy. His curls depicted his true essence, his playful, free, and wild personality. And they grew. And they covered his eyes. And stretched down his back. And they strained to stay curly. I knew his first haircut was unavoidable. But I thought I had time. And when I realized I didn’t, I was overcome with emotion. I know it’s just a haircut. But somehow the letting go feels bigger. Letting him grow. Knowing my baby is a little boy. And with one sleek, fast, snip…the curls fell into my hand, and my heart skipped a beat. My eyes welled as my little boy looked at me. The chord between us cut all over again. And I smiled as he laughed, honoring this last first haircut.