I haven't decided if I'm going to rebraid my hair. In the meantime, I wear it pulled back in a bun.

The man on the bus, on the seat behind me, leans forward and tells me, over my shoulder, "I like that you wear your hair natural like that. That you don't color it."

"There's nothing wrong with a few grey hairs," I tell him, turning around to face him. "Means you've lived a little."

He leans back, stroking his chin. "I don't let my beard grow 'cause I don't want anyone to see all the grey."

He's quiet for a moment, then says, "So you've lived a little?"

I think of the entirety of my life and can't help but grin as I turn back around. Yeah, Mister, just a little.