by Dorothy Baum

Created on: January 27, 2009

Grey and dull brown hair fluttered down into the rust stained porcelain sink as the pair of shears flashed in the dim light of a sixty watt bulb. Sandra could no longer see her image in the mirror, tears blurring her vision, she was literally chopping her hair off. She hated how her hair looked before she took to hacking at it with the shears. It was a feeble attempt to improve her coif, that suddenly went all wrong. Frustration and the enormity of her ruined life had finally taken a toll on her delicate grasp on reality.

She let the shears drop from her fingers; they clattered into the sink, the tips slipping into the drain. Roughly she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands before lowering them to grasp the sides of the sink. Her cleared vision allowed her to see her handiwork in the mirror. The image was distorted now that most of the silver had faded from along the edges. Short tufts of hair stuck out at odd angles, giving her the appearance of a worn out scrub brush. Her lower lip quivered, chin bunching up as she fought down the sudden urge to laugh, knowing that if she did she would never stop.

Sandra Wilkerson thought back over the last fifteen years, how it had all led up to this very moment. Rick, her husband of fifteen years, leaving her for another, much younger and vibrant woman. The divorce was quick, even the decision of child custody was hastily given to her. Rick did not want children to ruin his new romance chances. All the assets they had, the home and summer place in upstate New York, were sold, everything else was liquidated and split fifty-fifty, with the exception of the family car that she was allowed to keep.

She never realized how difficult it would be to make a move into a modest three bedroom townhouse in a more urban part of New York. Not to mention buying furniture that was more durable and functional than lavish and chic. Certainly not a place she would want to invite friends into. After shelling out her share of the liquidation proceeds for all that, Sandra knew she wasn't going to be able to make ends meet. What Rick paid in child support hardly kept the kids fed and clothed.

Not having any work experience, she took whatever jobs she could to augment living expenses. Finally settling on working as a waitress in a busy bistro in the little community where they now resided. She made only minimum wage and her tips did little to help. She was reduced to going on welfare, food stamps and WIC. It galled her to no end that she would

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