Maybe I thought there would be a poem or a big feeling to accompany this event. But mostly I just look at this picture the way you might. Like, wow. She looks different. We look in the mirror many times a day, just to check up, you know? Make sure the spinach isn’t stuck between the teeth, or do the short comb through. Imagine, you look at your reflection and you see someone but you have no idea who it is. Without her familiarity, is she a stranger? Or did the familiarity always mask the stranger that lives within us? Mostly I will wear the hat, scarf and even the wig so as not to scare little children. But I just have to say…. with compassion: sure it is cold with a bald head.