Roller Days

Where are my carefree loved filled roller days?

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Holding the bag or bucket that held the magic to straightening my kinky curly cinnamon brown locks.
Large round purple or magenta rollers depending on the length of my hair with long black or silver hair pins to secure them.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
My brother sits a few feet away watching tv or playing with his toy cars.
On occasion one would ‘slip’ away and park near me, so that I would send it sailing back to him hard and fast.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Wide tooth comb in her hand combing my hair into submission.
Then alternating to the fine tooth rattail comb to wrap my conditioned wet hair around each roller.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Getting tapped on the shoulder or neck to straighten up with either comb was not fun.
Wide tooth was thick and heavy, but the rattail with it’s needle like point was death.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Trying to play with my brother was a risk I took every time.
Hoping she would not notice me move or I would feel that almighty tug that would sit me up straighter than a flagpole.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
45 minutes of my life that I would never get back as I counted the 25-30 rollers being lined up like soldiers to do their job.
45 minutes that would lead to an hour and a half of high heat to dry and mold my ‘bad’ hair into silky ringlets or large soft curls.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Saturday, so that we could go out later in the evening to a family gathering or for church on Sunday followed by a family gathering.
Sunday, to look presentable for the school week, so as not to upset the nuns with my unruly mop for hair.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Each time she made the extra effort to make me shine with my molded silky ribbon filled mane.
Never taking too much time for herself, but always looking well put together with less.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
I appreciate all that she did for me during those much simpler times and I miss it now.
Oh what I would give to have her run both her hands on my scalp and down my hair.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
To feel her love for me as she primped and prodded my hair; to showcase her hard work transformed into beautiful curls, braids or for it to softly swing down my back.
Now I either I do it or I pay someone to primp and prod my unruly crown, but it will never be the same as when mami did it for me.

Carefree, loved filled roller days are long gone, but they live on in my memory.

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One thought on “Roller Days

  1. Raivenne says:

    Wow, just wow. I remember these days. It was always Saturday night for me, preparing for church Sunday. Beautiful reminisces.

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