Sometimes life gets weird. You lose hope, then you'll fall down, but then you'll get back up again. Sage did. So hang in there; it gets better, with time.
A short story.
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Sage wrapped a towel around his messy locs, the sounds of his bathroom slippers squeaking on the tile floor. He had just got out the shower and washed his hair to do sort of a pre-pamper before his flight in five days.
He didn't do his hair often, but didn't want to go back to the states with his wild new growth all over the place. He didn't really know how to look professional, but he would at least try. He was informed by the release counselor that doing something with his hair would be a great first step, and he wanted to take offense to that but couldn't even deny the truth.
It was currently four in the morning and he was the only one awake. It seemed like he barely slept anymore. He hated what he saw whenever he closed his eyes so he tried not to do it too much. Plus, being up at the crack of dawn was his favorite part of the day. It allowed him to-attempt to-get his thoughts together to get him prepared for the day.
Pressing the button on his hand-held radio, the sounds of old school gospel began to flow lowly through the speakers. Gospel wasn't his favorite genre of music, but there wasn't many choices in the middle of war country, Afghanistan.
As he began to detangle the roots of his locs, he could hear a toilet flush from the stalls but paid no mind to it. Morning rounds didn't start for another two hours so he didn't need to worry about anyone being up and walking around like he was.
To retwist his hair, Sage used gel, a comb, and bobby pins to restore the fresh look of his locs. He didn't have a wide range of products to choose from since everyone in his platoon had their heads shaved. He had to walk over to the women's camp to see if they could let him borrow any extra.
He was the only man that still had his hair, but when he first joined he had to get shaved bald just like the others. After awhile of him resisting the routinely haircuts, the Major just let it go because of the status of Sage's father. He hadn't cut his hair since he was 19, and he was now 26 with hair that went past his shoulders. It would be even longer if it wasn't loc'd.
It took him an hour and a half to finish his whole head, and his arms were sore as hell afterwards. Luckily he wouldn't be participating in drill today-or anymore, for that matter. He did have to go to a follow-up meeting with the release counselor for a mandatory check-out survey at 8am though.
"Mornin' boy. Lookin' good." One of the older guys in the platoon, James, complimented Sage's fresh style.
"I heard you getting out soon. That true?" Another man asked, younger this time and went by the name of Tiny even though he weighed at least 280 pounds.
Sage rose his eyebrow to question where he'd heard that from, but all Tiny did was shrug. It definitely was getting around camp and most of the men were upset that their favorite Sergeant would be getting discharged soon.
