X/XXX. Silver

Onyx was the colour of your hair when we met. Some of the curls tucked behind your ears, while the others jumping around; they grew like the wild grass, but I did not have the same urge to pull them. They were rightfully there. I loved the way you ruffled your hair sometimes, like one of those indie guys when they were playing on stage. To come and think about it, you went to that phase too once, didn't you? When you and your friends were trying to be one of the top three indie bands in our neighborhood? We had our laughs about that when you got into university, you found yourself there, didn't you? Then you forgot all about indie songs and music when you got your first paycheck and we stupidly spent it on Indian food and five pints of ice cream that weekend. After that, we promised ourselves to never spend it on food anymore. Next came promotions, weddings and baby showers; somewhere in between were ours. Then everything, that was spinning around so fast, got slower and slower.

Some silver hair are already spread on your temples when I am writing this. You are nervous and looking over the mirror, as if something weird will suddenly turn out on your clothing or your hair will turn to be blue or pink. You are such a nervous wreck right now, keep looking on your suits, but you are doing good, love. You are doing good. I can't help but keep smiling when I see you rubbing your temples, a definite sign when you are having anxiety attacks. And I can't help but kissing away all of your fears, especially the part when you are saying "I'll kill him if he mess up our daughter