The Landscape of Longing

Lisa's hair was long, blond and straight.  She was the undisputed queen of fifth grade and I watched her every day at recess.  I would sit on the cement curb under the holly tree with a book propped in my lap but my eyes never sought the page.  They were far too busy following the swirl of blond hair around the playground.  Her hair fell straight from a center part along her back to just below her shoulder blades.  It was two tones.  A honey blond on top with darker streaks underneath.  She never wore it up.  It was always loose and flowing and whipped behind her as she ran with her friends.

My own hair was sorely lacking.  It hung in two heavy braids down the side of my cheeks.  Thick, coarse, and brown, it tended to frizz and tangle at a moments notice.  Every year I dressed as an Indian girl for Halloween and my braids melded in nicely.  But my hair kept its costume on year round.  The two heavy braids reappearing year after year in school photos and Christmas cards.  My hair never whipped behind me in a silken wave when I ran.  It never fell and framed my face in a gentle stream.

But Lisa's hair, while enviable, was not my hearts desire.  What I really wanted were her eyes.  They were blue.  So blue they were clear; the color of aquamarine. I remember hearing a song on the radio once.  It was a country music station my mom listened to and the song caught my ear.  "'I"m gonna make my brown eyes bluuuuuuue," crooned the singer.  Of course she was singing about a broken heart and cowboy whose eye wandered but for me, at all our eleven years old, I took the song for truth and it settled in my heart.  Every time I looked in the mirror at my own brown eyes, I heard that refrain circling min my head.  If only I could make my eyes blue.  Clear blue.  The desire followed me through middle and high school.  Lisa from fifth grade was my standard.  My unattainable goal.  Hundreds of dollars were spent on magazines and hair treatments to try and copy those smooth silken locks.  Countless hours were spent sighing in front of mirrors.  Eventually, I settled into my skin.  Accepted my wild hair and plain eyes.  But the sight of a girl with straight blond hair and blue blue eyes still causes a small pain somewhere inside.