Everyone in my family has different colored hair. My younger sister's hair is black as the midnight sky. My dad's hair is dirty blonde with tiny streaks of grey, reminding him of his age. My hair is dark brown, the color of dirt in my mom's flower pot from the kitchen. But my sisters hair has a story of its own, her red hair radiates in the dark and is like a sunset on the ocean.

Her hair is energetic, bouncing and flying in the warm summer breeze. Her curls are twisted, not one the same.  My little sister's hair lies flat and silky on her back, her hair flawlessly glows in the warm sun. My hair has a mind of its own, picking different looks for the day. One day it’s wavy and the next day it will be a curly mess. There is but one thing out hair shares, our hair is all thick like a horse's tail, taking hours to dry after a relaxing, warm shower. My mothers hair has the smell of a flower shop and bounces with each step she takes.