My mother’s hair is like warm brownies fresh out of the oven. The smell of baked goods absorbs you in her motherly hugs. She has deep, dark hair that flows in waves like the ocean down to the middle of her back. My sister inherited the deep, dark coffee colored hair. As she got older she decided to change it to the color of cotton candy. With the colors came the smell, everything surrounding her turned to cotton candy, smelling like the delicious treat.

My brother has hair like a bear, cute and captivating but rough and rambunctious. It makes up its own rules and does what it wants. It disobeys the amount of gel he runs through it, standing up tall like the bear it is.

My hair is different. My hair is bright like the sand that meets the waves of my mother's hair. Smooth and delicious like the creamer you put in the deep, dark coffee-colored hair inherited by my sister. Gold and sweet, making me the Goldilocks to my brother's bear-like hair.