Everything Starts Falling Into Place...Kind Of
“It’s the truth. Ask your father if you don’t believe me. The witch told us that if anyone cut your hair after you turned sixteen, you would surely die.”
As I stood there, in complete and utter disbelief, my mother stared back at me, an infinite sadness clouding her eyes. For the first time, I noticed how there were strands of gray threaded throughout her dark hair and how a network of fine lines creased the middle of her forehead. For the first time, I realized my mother was aging.
I sat back down, suddenly out of breath. “Why – why didn’t you tell me before?”
My mother spread her hands out on the table, twisting her wedding ring as she did whenever she was nervous.
“Fear, I guess. I was afraid something might happen to you.”
Suddenly, everything started falling into place. “That explains why I was never allowed to use knives or forks, or scissors, and why you freaked out when I picked up daddy’s shears when I was little.”
“Now do you understand why we had to put you in this tower?”