sense.
But then Goldie said something none of us expected.
“I still want to donate it.”
Her father looked up.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“But I don’t want it this long anymore.”
His expression changed.
Goldie twisted the end of the braid around her wrist.
“It’s heavy. It gets caught on things. Sometimes it hurts when I sit on it.”
“I know.”
“You always fix it.”
Her voice trembled.
“You braid it or pin it up. But then it’s still there.”
Her father stared at the floor.
Then Goldie said the sentence that broke him.
“I don’t want you to think I don’t love Mom if I cut it.”
He stood immediately.
“Never.”
Goldie flinched at the force in his voice.
He softened and crouched in front of her again.
“Listen to me. Your hair is not proof that you love your mother.”
Goldie’s eyes filled with tears.
“Then why do
