As I adjusted my veil on our wedding day, my fiancé’s daughter Emily kept fiddling with her winter hat – an odd choice for our summer ceremony. “It’s important,” she insisted whenever anyone questioned it. I assumed it was just a child’s whim until the reception.
During dessert, Emily climbed onto the stage unannounced. With shaking hands, she presented me a velvet box containing her own golden curls, carefully saved from a haircut the week before. “For your hair troubles,” she whispered as I sank to my knees.
The hat came off to reveal her new bob. “Now you can have beautiful hair like I did,” she said, touching my damp cheeks. My new husband later confessed Emily had planned this for months after noticing my wigs and hairpieces.
Today, that first lock of Emily’s hair rests in a locket I never take off. And the foundation she inspired has gifted over 300 wigs to women who, like me, never thought they’d feel whole again.
