Letter to a Niece from her Aging, Childless Auntie

[An unfair burden really, since she's only four, but her brother is not yet one, and men don't tend to do these sorts of things anyway, do they?]

When I am old as dirt, with no one but you to look after me, feel free to put me in a nursing home. I only ask one thing. Please get me a haircut first. Get me a radical, punky, spiky do that requires some really strong hair gel, but no actual styling. That way, I can do it while I'm in bed, just by rubbing my hands through my hair.

I've never had a spiky do, but I've always sort of wanted one. With any luck, my hair will grow courser so it will stick up better.

I wasn't a punk rocker in any previous part of my life, but why shouldn't I take the opportunity when I'm old? If you have a child who would like to dye my hair crazy colors, that will be okay too. Just not "old lady blue".

The gel will emphasize how thin my hair has grown (unless it doesn't, which seems unlikely), and maybe you'll remember how thick it used to be. You won't ever remember me without gray hairs, but I hope you'll remember there used to be a lot of it.

Don't let them take me to the beauty shop and give me a permanent wave. I've never understood why people who spend most of the day in bed get hairdos that smush so easily.

And if your brother does help out, he can bring me flowers. And someone could maybe come read to me, if my eyes go. Ah, but now I've wandered into the realm of trying to make it comfortable. And why should it be, really, this growing old thing?

If I can just have my hair spiky, I think I'll be ready for whatever it throws at me.

Pity you won't think I was serious.