For a discussion of this essay, check out Hot Take Think Tank episode six. Every morning, I turn the trifold bathroom mirror inward so that it surrounds my head. I crane my neck one way and then the other, catching glimpses of where the vanity lights hit my hair: gold, then brown, then silver. I always admired my dad’s raven black hair, especially when silver streaks appeared above each ear. I am watching those same streaks arrive in my hair, one strand at a time. It gives me a strange thrill.
My goatee used to have red in it, now those hairs are all gray. But I never was a have-fun young person. Appearing older doesn't feel unfamiliar at all.
Relatability to the moon.
My goatee used to have red in it, now those hairs are all gray. But I never was a have-fun young person. Appearing older doesn't feel unfamiliar at all.