Crown in the Mirror

She parted her hair slowly, fingers gentle and deliberate. Healthy hair practices, including low-tension styling and scalp care, support hair retention and reduce breakage, especially in textured hair types (Lawrence et al. 402).

Shield and Shine

She smoothed sunscreen across her skin like armor made of care. Broad-spectrum sunscreen reduces the risk of skin cancer and prevents premature skin aging by blocking harmful ultraviolet radiation (U.S. Food and Drug Administration).

Hair Like a Crown

She stood in front of the mirror, fingers tracing the coils rising toward the ceiling. Natural textured hair reflects genetic diversity and structural strength, with tightly coiled hair showing higher tensile resilience when properly moisturized (Franbourg et al. 257).

The Science of the Crown

She stood patiently as she detangled section by section, listening to the soft sound of hair moving through her fingers. Hair texture and curl patterns are determined by the shape of the hair follicle, not by damage or lack of care, according to dermatological research (Franbourg et al. 390).

Sunlight on the Hardwood

The sunlight spilled across the polished wooden floor, highlighting the curves and grains of the old chair she had restored.

Crown in the Mirror

Morning Tea in the Garden 2

 

Morning Tea in the Garden

 

Wash Day Without Rush

Wash day had a way of announcing itself before it even began. I could feel it in my scalp when I woke up—slightly dry, a little tight near the crown. Not painful, just a reminder that hair care was due. I filled a glass with water and drank it before doing anything else. Hydration plays a role in skin and scalp health, especially for maintaining the barrier function of the skin (Palmer and DeLouise).

Wash Day, Rewritten

Wash day used to feel like an obligation stacked on top of everything else. Now I treated it as a scheduled pause. I checked the clock before starting, not to rush, but to make sure I had enough time to move slowly. Hair care, especially for textured hair, benefits from patience more than pressure. Detangling too quickly increases breakage and mechanical damage to the hair shaft (Robbins).

Wash Day, Slowly

Wash day used to feel like a deadline. Something I rushed through, arms tired, scalp irritated, patience thin. That Saturday, I decided to do it differently. Not faster. Not perfect. Just slower.

I started by sectioning my hair carefully, fingers separating curls instead of fighting them. Acceptance came first. My hair was dry because the weather had changed. It was tangled because I had been tired. Neither of those things meant I had failed. They meant my body and my routine needed adjustment.

Crown Like Mine

Ariyah been lovin’ her hair since she was little, but today? Today she felt extra cute.

She stood in front of her mirror, long kinky curls spillin’ down her back like a whole waterfall of sunshine. “Mmm-hmm,” she said to herself, fluffin’ the ends, “y’all can’t tell me nothin’ today.”

Her grandma poked her head in the room. “Girl, you still in here playin’ in that hair?”

Crown of Clouds

Amani stood in front of the mirror, her long, kinky hair stretching toward the ceiling like a soft storm cloud. Today was picture day, and her stomach fluttered with the usual worry. Her classmates always whispered things like “Why is it so big?” or “Can you flatten it?” And even though she tried not to let it bother her, the tiny questions felt like tiny pinpricks.

The House That Shined

Chapter 1: The Key Under the Mat

Part 1: Returning to Grandma June’s House

The house smelled like old wood, lavender, and time.

I stood on the porch with the key in my palm, its edges worn down from years of use and silence. It had lived at the back of my kitchen drawer for five years, ever since Grandma June passed and left everything to us—“the grandkids,” as her will simply stated.

There were five of us in total. Me, my sister Rhea, our cousin Marcus, and the twins—Kenny and Liv. We hadn’t all been under one roof since her funeral. The house had sat untouched, the mail stopped, the power shut off, and the garden left to go wild.

Attic Runway

The attic was the final frontier.

No one had touched it since we moved in five years ago, and even back then, we just tossed boxes in and slammed the door shut. But on that sunny Saturday, with nothing but lemonade and ambition, Mom declared it was time.

“If it’s got dust on it, we clean it. If it’s broken, we toss it. And if it still fits...” she raised a brow, “we model it.”

That last part? Not a joke.

Popsicles and Patience

It was so hot I could feel my eyelashes sweating.

The AC was broken. Again. The repair guy said he “might” show up tomorrow, which in our neighborhood meant next week. So we opened the windows, turned on every fan we owned, and prayed for a breeze.

“Don’t just sit there melting,” my aunt called out. “If we’re gonna sweat, we might as well make the house sparkle.”

And just like that, heatwave cleaning day was born.

Stormlight Supper

 The rain came out of nowhere.

One minute, we were sweeping the garage. The next, thunder cracked so loud that my little cousin dropped the broom and screamed like she saw a ghost. Within minutes, the skies broke open like they had been waiting all week to cry.

We ran inside, laughing, soaked, and still holding cleaning supplies.

“Guess the garage is postponed,” I said, shaking water from my sleeves.

But Mom had other plans. “Then we clean the inside,” she declared, already grabbing a mop.

Living Room Lounge

 I never expected the living room to become a party.

It started simple—Mom asked me to help her clean the ceiling fan. That one chore turned into dusting the bookshelves, which led to vacuuming behind the couch, which led to my brother pulling every cushion off to “check for snacks.” Within an hour, our entire living room looked like a furniture yard sale.

“You know what this means, right?” Mom said, arms crossed with a smirk.

“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s now a family project?”

“Bingo.”

Soon the whole house was involved. My cousin Mia showed up with a mop and a jug of iced pineapple-ginger punch. My auntie D brought her famous cornbread muffins “for energy,” and my uncle cranked up the old stereo and said, “If I’m gonna help, I need my soundtrack.”

Suds and Secrets

When Grandma called for a “garden cleanup,” I assumed she meant she needed help trimming hedges or pulling weeds. I was wrong.

I arrived to find half the family in the backyard, wearing old clothes, rubber gloves, and suspiciously excited expressions.

“We’re cleaning everything,” Grandma declared, hands on her hips. “Shed, tools, pots, porch, souls if we have time.”

Someone handed me a sponge. Someone else passed me a fizzy lemonade. And like that, I was conscripted into what Grandma called the “Backyard Revival.”

The Saturday Switch-Up

 Saturday morning rolled in with birds chirping and my mom banging a pot lid against the counter like she was summoning an army.

I groaned into my pillow. “Why are you like this?”

She yelled from the kitchen, cheerful and dangerous: “It’s cleaning day, baby! Let’s make this house shine and our stomachs sing!”

I peeked out of my blanket and immediately regretted it. Sunlight hit my face like judgment. Still, the smell of fried dumplings and cinnamon tea managed to drag me out of bed. If I was going to suffer, I might as well do it with a full stomach.