Dear Every Hair on My Head,
Sorry for making this a mass e-mail, but it would take me a really long time to get to each one of you, and I want to make sure you all hear this ASAP.
It's been awhile since we've talked; in fact, I'm sorry to admit that communicating with you has never been a priority of mine, and perhaps you resent me for it. This may explain why so many of your siblings and friends have already left the scalp. I've noticed for several years that your population has been thinning, but I never had the presence of mind to talk to you about it until now.
I want you to know that I'm not trying to change your mind. It must be hard to be a hair, and I can't say I'd blame you if you decide to give up. I just didn't want to let another day pass without telling each and every one of you how thankful I am to you. I know you must have a hard time feeling special. How can you, an individual hair, actually make a difference to me, let alone the world at large.
Well, let me be clear: You can and you do make a difference. Each and every one of you.
Again, I'm not asking you to stay. If you need to leave, I understand. But I want you to know how proud I am of every single one of you for sticking around as long as you have. You still create a beautiful head of hair, and I am pleased with the way you all look in your current configuration. It looks like those of you at the forward part of the scalp are forming your own little island away from those at the back, and I don't have a problem with that as long as it's not as a result of any in-fighting.
I also notice that three or four of you are still hanging on in larger patches that everyone else has already abandoned, and I want you to know I'm happy you've stayed, but honestly if you have somewhere better to go, don't worry about it. In all likelihood, the others are not coming back.
Just remember the story of the one tiny drop of water who heard about a small village where there had been no rain for months, and the people there were facing starvation because the crops were all dying. He felt useless. "What difference can I make?", he asked the magic unicorn rainbow. "I am the tiniest drop of water," he added, finishing his thought to flesh out his vulnerable condition. A microscopic tear drop rolled down his cheek. The magic unicorn rainb-- oh, yadda yadda, you know where this is going. The story has a happy ending.
Marian Wright Edelson says,
"We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee."It's a long sentence and you may have to read it two or three times to fully grasp it, but it'll blow your mind once you figure it out.
Therefore my brothers and sisters, stand firm! We have a bright future ahead of us. Your numbers may not be what they once were, but what you lack in quantity you make up for in quality. Those that remain are the strongest hairs I have ever known. I want to make you this oath: I will wear you with pride no matter how your population is dwindling. Although I am not always the most emotionally expressive host, I am not one who would shave all of you off for shame.
But mostly I want to communicate love. I regret never getting to say goodbye to those we've already lost, and I'm sorry that I can't spend some alone time with each of you. Oh the things you could teach me! And yet, time on earth simply does not allow for this to happen. So please know that even if I don't tell you every day, I love you very much.