Ponytail

Untitled Part 1

The brush yanked at Emili's hair as she fiercely forced the brush through, with quick, strong strokes from top to bottom. She stopped occasionally to pull out some hay or burrs from her hair before getting back to work.

It wasn't unusual to catch Emili's tangly brown hair swaying in the breeze or collecting everything from leaves to ants.

But it didn't phase her in the least bit. Besides the horses and cowboy boots that she never seemed to outgrow, her hair was a big part of what made her who she was. The soft brown colour reflected her friendly, outgoing personality, the natural waviness resembled her wild, fearless attitude, and just the overall messiness of it all was reminiscent of her adventurous, fun-loving personality.

By the time Emili finally pulled the brush through her last strands of hair, she was sure her arm was going to fall off. She shook it off and put her brush and hair ties back into her brown knit cosmetic bag.

She threw on a jean jacket and raced down the cabin's creaky stairs. She slipped her feet into her boots and pulled them up to where they met her knee caps. She rushed out the door, not remembering her parent's warning her time and time again not to slam the door behind her. The sound startled the hens and sent them into a fit of clucking and pecking at each other. Emili ignored the panicking hens and ran toward the barn.

A long salt and pepper snout followed by a beady black eye poked out from the only occupied stall.

"Hey, Sel! Ready to go riding?", Emili asked enthusiastically, taking down Sel's dark hand made leather bridle. She hooked the reins over the saddle horn and brought the whole bundle over to Sel's stall.

Sel whinnied and shook her long, frizzy white mane in response. Emili laughed and started tacking up. She was always so amazed when she fit the Bridle on Sel's face. She would stroke her mane and run her fingers absent-mindedly through it. It was always so soft and smooth. There was never a day that Sel's mane wasn't clean and shiny.

Emili thought of her own hair. Now her hair was a different story. It was rare to see it out of the messy ponytail she always threw it into. Her brown hair collected everything it could get tangled into and hooked onto every doorpost and fence. But what was the fun of having perfect hair when you can't have fun? What was the point of standing still all day trying not to mess your hair? Every twig and leaf that got stuck in her hair was a treasure. It made her who she was. A wild country girl who had a taste for adventure.