Title: Carried Away
This story is part of the Glimpses of Ben Series.
He flexed his little hand, the sharp points went back and forth. Wide, blue eyes stared as the long silver edges. A clipping sound fell on his ears with movement of his hand. He turned them and examined them from every angle. Pointed or v-ed, the shape was still long and silver. The little fingers of his hand just barely made the item in his hand move.
Taking a deep breath, he remembered the thing that he had become aware of just today. He was different. Every one of his friends looked nearly the same, coal black hair, straight and strong; each with shinning dark eyes, their skin bronzed.
He stood on the stool again to look in his mother's mirror. Yes, there it was the face the other kids laughed at. He was different. His eyes were bluer than the sky. Could that be a bad thing? His skin was pale and white. His mother's skin was like that, was that a bad thing? Those items he could deal with, he loved his mother, and he liked looking a little like her. But oh the hair. Dark, fluffy curls surround his pale face. The strands of his hair lay in curls on his forehead, over his ears around his neck. The curls were soft, and thick. He sighed. All he wanted was to be welcomed by the others.
Clip, clip went the scissors in his hand. Curls began to fall around his feet on the chair. No, he would have to clip shorter as his hair still curled. Grabbing another piece, he clipped again. He clipped until all the dreaded curls were on the chair and on the floor. The uneven cut was spikey and very short. Parts of his head appeared almost bald. He raised the scissors again...
"Ben, what are you doing?" his mother said rushing across the room to fall on her knees beside the 4-year-old little boy on the chair.
He looked down into her tear filled eyes and though he smiled there were tears in his eyes. "I just want to be like everyone else. So I cut my hair."
Caroline Fraser took in a deep breath and began running her hands over her child's shorn locks. "Ben, Ben. You can shave your head darling, if you want to, but you'll still be different. Would you give me the scissors?" she began fussing over his hair and trying to even out the unnatural way it was not cut.
"Different is good Ben," she whispered in his ear. "If everyone was exactly alike there wouldn't be any variety in life. Remember the flowers we saw in the spring? Even though all those flowers were on the same plant, each one was a little different from the others."
His eyes were filling with tears. "I don't understand." His little voice said.
She smiled and hugged him close. "Someday you will understand." She stepped back from him now that she thought she had evened out the odd lengths of his hair.
But inside her, her heart pulled at her, gripped her in pain. She broke into a smile and drew him to her and turned them to face the mirror.
"See darling, you're still you, just with shorter hair." He turned in her arms and hugged her.
The door swung open and Bob Fraser came in carrying his pack. He took one look at all the hair on the chair and on the floor. "Geesh Caroline, I said perhaps Ben needed a more adult hair cut now he's four...Did you have to scalp him."
Ben and Caroline looked at each other and laughed. "We just got carried away."