Film Noir

My brother gave the world a great gift a few days ago and got a haircut. Somehow, in fifteen magical minutes, our favorite Great Clips lady transformed the lethal-looking mushroom cloud of dark brown on the top of his head - so molded by his unshakable insistance on fitting his house paint-covered DU baseball cap over the waves on waves - into something so... normal-person-looking that, as he emerged from the chair, I was struck by the realization that my almost-twin bro is actually a pretty good looking guy.

Until last week, I hadn't seen Matt since January. And from the new, pared-down 'do, another startling realization: my brother is going gray. Three weeks shy of 20, he's speckled all over, with this badass, X-men looking streak running from the back of his head to above his left eye.

I'm pretty sure that my dad was gray and balding by the time he graduated from high school, so it's not some earth-shattering, freak-out thing that my brother has taken his place in the circle of Bigelow teenage gray hair. But it's kind of like witnessing my pubescent eighth-grade baby sister navigate her way through training bras and shaving her skinny little legs and using deodorant - once you start wearing a bra and shaving your legs, you'll never not wear a bra and shave your legs ever again. And once you have gray hair, you'll never not have gray hair again. I don't know why, but there's something strangely incredible to me about the idea of being an adult alongside the same people with whom I used to be a kid - even if those people are my brother and sister, and even if that's completely obvious. We all get along like a dream now. We respect one another and laugh and make jokes and we're generous with each other. My sister is hilarious and witty and gives of her time volunteering in a way that most people twice her age haven't figured out. My brother cooks and buys gass and doesn't get mad at me for using it and makes a pot of coffee and pours me a cup. We treat one other like people. We pray for one another, we tell each other that we love each other, and we mean it. And it's cool. I like it. And I think it's cool that my brother has gray hair and that my sister is almost as tall as I am.

Then again, next May, she'll graduate from middle school the same week that I graduate from college. Which will be nice, because I have a feeling that next spring is about the time that this whole grown-up thing will suddenly be looking less intriguing and more scary as hell.