Songbird Sally

It was finally here, the first day of the season of Spring. Four, almost five years of Sally’s childhood life had been waiting for this special day. For this would be the day she would lose her thick head of wavy chestnut hair and help raise desperately needed funds for the Cancer Council’s hunt for a still illusive cure. Since the tender age of eight Sally had truly hated cancer. She had watched her dad’s own battle with the dreaded disease attacking his lung. An adoring daughter, Sally took it hard as she witnessed her father losing his own luscious locks. From there his energy had dwindled to nothing. His deep, soothing tones had sadly progressed from rock and roll front man to ghostly whisper. As he finally closed his eyes for the last time his ultimate words were for his little girl.

“Sally Songbird, I’m sorry to go… So sorry I’ve got to leave… Always remember daddy loves you… Keep singing my darling, don’t let my passing kill that sweet song…” he had hoarsely murmured in her eagerly straining ear.

Sally sang her daddy’s favorite song at the funeral, squeaky and unsure without that strong fatherly figure by her side. Mum wept that day, tears of pride. More tears were to follow when Sally vowed that on her thirteenth birthday she would get her hair cut just like that man, do to herself what cancer did to him.

“Mum, I’m not cutting my hair until I turn thirteen.”

“Sally darling, you’re not thinking straight,” said her mum originally.

As her daughter began to explain the grand plan her mum’s eyes welled up. Her daughter was not angry at the death of the man they both loved. Or if she was angry she was also selfless, the most altruistic and kindhearted person she knew.

“So mum, will you help me?”

“Yes darling, I think that is a beautiful idea. Your father would be so proud.”

Eight year old Sally’s eyes sparkled and the quest to grow her hair began.

Just like Sally’s dad had asked, the little girl kept using her voice. Singing helped Sally to become a well-known name in her local community. She did a few gigs, first for friends and family and then one at the local pub. The local radio station helped her record a demo by the time she had turned ten. At double digits Sally had a regular spot at the Blue Jay bar in the next city over; Friday nights between seven and nine, once a month. All the monies risen from those Friday nights, song downloads and even the rare CD or two all went into beating the C word. As her music identity grew so too did Sally’s hair. She kept it washed and conditioned and every now and then she visited a friend to get the ends trimmed. The river grew until it was well past her knees. Sally had become the locally renowned Songbird with her just as famous chestnut river.

And so the young girl was so excited when that first day of Spring arrived. Finally she was a teenager but more importantly the day of the cut had arrived. With half of her target raised Sally was concerned at first. That was before, before she witnessed her whole community that had gathered to help Sally raise the funds she was looking for. Aunts and Uncles had dipped generously into their pensions. Mum had somehow found a few hundred bucks to donate, but the generosity of the music community was what had truly blow Sally away. The singers, guitarists, drummers and other music makers had all remembered Sally’s dad, Bill. Those that played with him knew him as Smoky, partly for his smooth singing voice but also for the fact he would roll his own ciggies and then like a magician he would make them vanish just as quick.

“Thank you all for coming out today to help me celebrate my thirteenth birthday,” said Sally, clear of voice even though tears flecked her eyes. “I love seeing all my wonderful family and friends gathered here today… But more than that, I am just so happy to see so many of my dad’s friends that have turned out to help me celebrate.”

“Would not have missed it, Sally!” one from the crowd shouted and the rest of the crowd murmured their agreement.

“The true reason we have all gathered though has a little something to do with,” the young girl added, indicating her long and glossy locks.

“But first, I would like to share with you a song I’ve written especially for today…”

As the hat was passed around the crowd one final time and more generosity was showed, Sally sang.

“Finally! Finally you are here…” the song began.

“I can feel you by my side… Your strength has become my strength…” Sally continued.

“Your dream and my dream are one…”

“Daddy I miss you… I can feel you in my heart and my soul…”

“I feel you beside me… Your dream and my dream are one…”

Then it was time. Sally settled back in the chair and shivered gently as the cape was draped around her. There was a buzz as the clippers were plugged into the socket which had previously powered an amp. Then slowly but surely the river of chestnut dropped gently to the floor. Thanks to a live post fundraiser as the hair fell more dollars flowed in. With each zip and shear more and more of Sally’s scalp showed. Tears of memory and tears of release flowed down the Songbird’s rosy cheeks to plop among the river of hair. As lock after lock fell Sally’s song was taken up by the crowd that watched. It ended as the last piece of chestnut floated down and the girl proudly showed off her new look.

“Ten grand!” mouthed Sally’s mum and gave her daughter a giant grin.

“Dad, we did it!” Sally cried with joy.

Just like a song the sound of applause washed over her.

And then as Sally’s tears continued to fall so too did ten thousand daffodils, raining down upon the teen. Sally could not help but smile.