Red Hair

There are moments in life where you have to leap, take a chance.

Some take a road trip to anywhere.
Others get that tattoo that's been lingering at the edge of every thought.

I dyed my hair.
Red.

It's not a life altering decision. It get the occasional, "ooOOhhh let me see you hair!! When'd you do that??" Besides that, life's been pretty normal.
Billy Joel sings me awake, I find myself dressing, and I'm off for a run.
OR I put Billy on hold via the magic of Snooze and I doze back into a fuzzy, warm doze.

But I dyed my hair. ME. Permanently.

When I look in that mirror, there I am (no, duhh). But then I start running a hairbrush through my hair and RED. The under layers of RED peek through.

I'm not the same Rachael before I boarded that plane to Italy. I'm not sure if others notice, but I can tell, I can feel it in my gut. The RED reminds me of that, reminds me that I've grown. Flying across the Atlantic, living in a foreign country for four months, I've stepped closer, closer to the person I want to become.

A person that smiles at life,
wakes up to see the sunrise,
spends her extra cash on a plane ticket to see a friend,
eats out even though her budget says she should eat in,
talks all night with her best friend,
kicks her shoes off and steps in the river,
leaps in her Faith despite the fear of falling.

A person that soaks up life, the good and the bad, and keeps running...keeps seeking Adventure.





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