Even without much sunlight or rain, it grew. I’m still not sure how old it had gotten, but when it finally showed itself, my wife said, “You have a hair growing out of your nose.”
I wasn’t sure if she was proud of me or just making a comment in passing. Come to find out, she expected me to trim it. To cut its life short. To remove it completely from existence.
I found that to be a
rather drastic solution to something I had not even noticed, nor cared about. Turns out, she was concerned about what our
friends might say. I mean, it wasn’t
like a piece of jewelry or a tattoo, and as it was only a single hair, I couldn’t
braid it, so maybe she had a point. It
could be, I guess, that friends weren’t just being friendly when they looked at
me and said, “Hi Gean.”
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