Eventually, her hair started falling out.
Noah never treated her differently, but I could see how much it hurt him to watch his friend struggle.
Then one evening, he came into the kitchen while I was washing dishes.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Can people make wigs from real hair?”
I turned off the faucet.
“Yes. There are organizations that collect donated hair and use it to make wigs.”
He thought about that.
“Could they use mine?”
I stared at him.
“Your hair?”
He nodded.
“For Grace.”
At first, I assumed he was simply being impulsive.
His hair was still relatively short, and he had never shown any interest in growing it out.
“Sweetheart, that would take months.”
“How many?”
“I’m not sure. We’d have to find out.”
“Can we?”
His expression was so serious that I dried my hands and sat down with him.
