Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Change. Taxes. Death. Few other things remain inevitable.

In Saigon, down the street from our hotel lies a small, fluorescent-green juice shop. Squished between two multi-story restaurants, the little shop overflows with modern decor; tables and chairs spill out of the little store. Occasionally, when the police arrive, the lone woman who works there is forced to retreat her things, lest they be taken for 'obstructing' the sidewalk. She is young and beautiful. Her name is Mi. And most of all, she is honest and decent.

At first glance the lack of hair underneath her cap doesn't catch my eye. A few minutes later, half-way down my glass of guava juice, I am told that, in Buddhist tradition, she has shaved her hair in honor of her grandfather's health. He had been seriously ill for some time. Now, fortunately enough, he has taken a turn for the better.

Sometimes you must give up something, even if you know it might not matter. Just doing something, anything -- Exhausting all options. For my Grandma (who has recently developed lung cancer) I have kept her in my thoughts, prayed, wished, and cried. But until today, I have never actually sacrificed anything. Wholly unoriginal, I have followed Mi's path. I can only hope for the same results.