“He looks like a little girl.”
“Boys shouldn’t have hair like that.”
“When are you going to give him a proper haircut?”
My husband, Mark, stopped her every time. “Leo’s hair is not up for discussion, Mom.”
Brenda would give that tight little smile and switch the topic. That smile always meant she was waiting for her chance.
The Promise
What Brenda didn’t know—what she never bothered to ask about—was why Leo’s hair was so long in the first place.
Two years ago, our daughter Lily was diagnosed with leukemia. She was three years old.
The chemotherapy took her hair within weeks. Beautiful brown curls, gone. She cried every time she looked in the mirror.
Leo, who was only three himself at the time, watched his little sister cry. And one night, he climbed into her hospital bed, put his hand on her bald head, and said, “Don’t worry,
