I asked if Ms. Runghan was bald because she used to love it when we braided her hair. I felt like her hair played a big part in my life, which sounds weird, but I used to braid it all the time.
When I was in kindergarten, I was painfully shy. I didn't talk to anyone, and no one talked to me. I think it was partially because I was socially awkward and would freeze out anytime someone would even talk to me.
And, sure, I hated that and felt lonely most of the time, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to anyone, except Ms. Runghan. She was the sweetest person in the world; she would give me these odd off-brand Jolly Ranchers and let me braid her hair, which was long—like Rapunzel long, but the only difference was that she was a redhead.
I once asked her why she kept her hair so long, and she said it was because her hair held memories that she didn't want to cut. But then I overheard a teacher say she never cut her hair because it was the last haircut her mom gave her before she died. I felt bad for her so I begged my mom to get her a small box of chocolate from Dollaramma. And when I gave it to her she smiled and laughed a little. "What's this for?"
"I heard about your mom," I said sadly, giving her a sympathetic look.
Her smile died a little as she took the chocolate. "Don't worry darling, and thank you for the chocolate."
I smiled as I gave her a small hug.
Ms. Runghan deserved the world. She was so sweet and funny, and I will always hold a place in my heart for her. Even if she was sometimes a bit odd (not in a creepy way, just in a "what's your favorite sock color?" way), she had a heart of gold.
(Yeah, she's dead.)
YOU ARE READING
A Recipe for Disaster
HumorI can't cook, tried to so many times but I always end up burning something other than the meal, like a dishcloth. But I can cause a disaster, like falling in love with two boys at the same time. Now, what do we call that? 'A Recipe for Disaster'.
