What I didn’t realize was that Ethan was learning something about himself during those months.
He was discovering that love sometimes meant doing something uncomfortable without expecting praise.
And he was discovering that even when you couldn’t fix the biggest problem in someone’s life, you could still make one small part of it easier.
Eventually, his hair reached the required length.
We made an appointment with the organization, and I drove him there on a Saturday morning.
He sat in the passenger seat, running his fingers through his hair.
“Last chance to change your mind,” I teased.
He looked at me.
“Mom, if you say that one more time, I’m going to start charging you for emotional support.”
“How much?”
“Twenty dollars.”
“You’re my son. I’ll pay you in pancakes.”
“Deal.”
At the organization, a stylist examined his hair and divided it into sections.
She explained what she was going to do before making the first cut.
