I started life ... as a blonde. Just as blonde as blonde could be ... a gorgeous shade of bright yellow. Sadly, you'd never know it now. It was cyclical ... every summer I spent long days out in the sun and my hair would be dazzling. Then in the winter, when I was indoors, my hair would fade to strawberry blonde. Then summer would come and the sun would bleach me out again. This went on until I was around ten. That's about when I stopped wanting to spend hours in the sun ... and decided to spend all my time indoors listening to music and reading. My hair darkened to strawberry blonde ... and it never lightened again.
So I'm a redhead ... I have been for years. Why am I still a redhead? Because I've always been too chicken to dye my hair. I've longed to recreate those pictures of me with bright yellow tresses. When my hair was down to my waist, I longed to dye it the blackest black and spend every spare moment going to Cure concerts. But underneath it all, I'm fond of my red ... and I'm scared that if I dyed it a different shade, I'd never get it back to the original.
Mom ... on the other hand ... has always been adventurous. I have pictures with her hair every color under the sun. In one she's Marilyn Monroe blonde ... in another she's Ann Margaret red ... in one her hair is so black it looks like she invented goth. I even have one of her at a party where I swear her hair looks peacock blue. I've never asked her what prompted that fashion choice ... I'm not sure I want to know.
I've always envied that about her ... she is bold and fearless. It's true ... she pisses people off because she has no filter and says whatever she thinks ... but she was so out there when she was young. She claims that I'm so much like my Dad ... but sometimes when I'm telling someone a story ... about that trip to Mississippi or being at Woodstock II ... I think I'm more like her than she knows. Which is actually a very good thing because she doesn't know half those stories ...
Anyhow ... she doesn't come here ... I hope ... but Happy Mother's Day to my Mom ... and all the other Mom's out there. Your kids are more like you than you'll ever know ...
I'm just starting to build a name.
I can feel it, around the corner
I could make it any day.
Mother mother can you hear me
Sure I'm sober, sure I'm sane.
Life is perfect, never better
Still your daughter, still the same.
Tracy Bonham - Mother Mother