Every night before bed
Mama brushed her hair
She would remove the clips that held it snug
And let It fall loosely upon her rounded shoulders
Mama was so pretty with her hair down

She would pick up the brush
And as she pulled it through her locks
She would begin to count
One, two, three, four
Until she reached one hundred strokes

When she was done
She would put me on her lap
And begin to brush my hair
Gently she would brush and brush
Counting 44, 45, 46
Untill she reached 100 again
Then she would set me down
Kiss my forhead
And send me off to bed

I hope that when I grow up
I will have pretty brown hair
Just like Mama’s

When I saw this old dresser with the brush and comb, I thought of my Grandmother who had one similar to this on her dresser. It reminded me of the evenings spent brushing my hair 100 strokes.
When I was young, we believed that brushing your hair 100 strokes everyday evenly distributed the natural oils from your scalp to make the hair healthier.

Photo taken with Fuji camera. Texture added