My daughter says my hair is darker at the ends, whiter at the top. I don't think you can really tell it in this picture, but it is some kind of a map of the last five or six years of my life. The changing waviness is because I wear it braided almost all the time.
Today in therapy I was feeling guilty for what a grudging caregiver I am with John, particularly compared to my willingness to take care of my daughter when she was sick. An ongoing situation is so much harder than a temporary situation, and I am still struggling to get past how important it has been to me to have an equal relationship with John.