Feeling Good

Mom ran a comb through her thin, sparse hair and frowned in disgust.

“You know, Mom, we could ask for help with your hair,” I said gently.

“There’s nothing we can do about it. It’s like twigs on a winter tree.”

“How about we pray? God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,” I began.

She interrupted me. “I don’t want to accept it.”

“I know you’re a fighter, so how about the second part—the courage to change the things we can.”

“Can’t change a barren mountaintop,” Mom said, shaking her head.

“The last line is the most important, don’t you think, Mom? And the wisdom to know the difference.”

“I suppose,” she said. “What I know is I can’t get more hair.”

“Yes, you can! And I’m going to take you there right now.” Fifteen minutes later, we were at a shop in the mall with a sales clerk helping Mom try on wigs.

“Let’s try this one,” the clerk said. “I think the shape and color will be perfect on you.” An hour later we walked to the car with three wigs in different shades and styles. “I’m so excited, sweetie,” Mom said. “Thank you!”