Creative writing exercise # 14- write a scene of about 500 words in which a character does something of great symbolic significance. Make sure that you know that the character has something to work out, but do not tell the reader what it is.

I stared into the mirror, unsure about whether or not I was ready to do this. Everything looked all right, and all was ready, except for me. I wasn’t sure whether or not this would be a good idea, or whether or not it would actually work. Did I really have to do it, right here, right now? When I couldn’t be sure at all whether or not things would actually be okay, and stressing myself out would just make me feel weaker. But I had to do it. I had to know what this felt like again, I had to know if I could do it or not. Regardless of whether I thought I could or not. I took a deep breath, and put my hand to my head. It was warm, and I let my hand remain there for a minute. And there it was, just as I had always remembered it. My beautiful hair, still all there, for the most part. Finally returning. Here I was, brushing my hair. I picked up the brush, letting my hands get used to the feel of the grip again. I had waited so long to do this, and now, I wasn’t sure why. My fingers gripped the brush, and I put it up to my head. I let it sink in, and gently, I pulled the brush down down down until it was all the way through my hair and out in the air below the ends. I did this again and again, until I could no longer find a single knot. My hair was silky smooth, and I was none the happier about it. Now I knew I could handle it, brushing the hair that had finally grown back had made me feel a little stronger, but not very much. I wondered what task I would have to tackle next. I thought this one would be the most difficult, but it really wasn’t. It was something I had done a thousand times before, and I hadn’t forgotten how to do it. It was like riding a bike, brushing your hair was something you never forgot how to do, not since your mom showed you how. Only when I started to think about what I had just done, what I hadn’t had to worry about for the past few months did I start to feel reality sink in. This was the worst part. The aftermath. As soon as the worst is over, it is our body’s instinct to think it over, rationalize everything. I wondered how I was going to get through this alone. I didn’t know if I could, if something as simple as brushing my hair was to be this difficult for me to handle emotionally. I closed my eyes, and let one single tear sink down without clearing it away. This was one of a million things that my sister would never again be able to do.