Saturday, May 7, 2011

A Love Letter

Dear Beard,

We’ve been together for a while now. I remember back in November when you and I were just getting started. You weren’t even a beard back then. You were actually kind of a prick. Sometimes you’d get your stubborn stubble all up in my face and I’d get so irritated that I couldn’t sleep at night. But I stuck with you. Looking back I don’t know why I did. It would have been easier to shave you away, just like every other time. But for some reason, I thought I’d give you a chance. There was potential for us. I just needed to be willing to give you the opportunity. Willing to not be afraid. Willing to let us grow together. Willing to commit to you.

I stayed with you.

When I decided to let you into my life things were immediately exciting. You caressed my finger tips when I ponderously fondled my chin, you shielded my neck when the harsh wind whipped, you tickled my lips when I smiled. But the freshness of our courtship dampened. I started to notice your patches and weak spots. I began to recognize where you grew uneven and scraggly. I remember waking up in the morning, gazing at you in the mirror, and hardly being able to recognize you. It was like you changed with each cycle of the sun. Who were you? What was I doing with you?

Why does my beard look so different every day?
And why do I have such a hard time
looking directly into the camera?

Why was I still with you? Did I keep you around just to hide behind my insecurities--you veiled my shallow jawline? Did I stay with you because of laziness--you didn’t make me shave every morning? Did I only like you because you made me feel special and unique--like a megalodon among a vast sea of baby-faced manlings? I questioned you. But when I doubted you, you never doubted me. You stayed with me. When I ate messy sopes and spilled salsa and hot sauce all over you, you never once complained. You stayed with me. When I trimmed your ‘ol pal Mustache you didn’t protest or try to dissuade me. You simply stayed with me. When I scratched and clawed you with my cracked hands and stubby, dirty fingernails you never once fussed.

You stayed with me.

You didn’t doubt me, complain, protest, or fuss because just as I committed to you, you committed to me. And for that, I love you.

   With all my face,


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