WHERE DID IT ALL GO(George Wilder) At this point my marriage is still intact. And I hope forever. But on one late evening, I was getting ready to say good night to my lovely and wonderful new wife after some serious love making, then I decided to take one last walk into one of our very large and gorgeous state of the art bathrooms. I wanted to gargle my mouth out for the night and for whatever reason to run a light comb through my precious wet and natural looking laid back hair. I always want to look my best ever after screwing. I have always loved and adored every strane of my hair. In other words, my hair is my world. As I peered off into space and there was something more shockingly happening to me. I had discovered this when I stared and really focused in on the phenomenon on top of my head by looking directly into one of the many mirrors located in the bathroom of our magnificent three bedroom house.
There were at least two terrible looking emerging imperfections. I gulped deeply three times in astonishment. One of those mean looking imperfections was on top of my noggin in full view, and the other was at the rear of my head. It took an additional mirror to find that one. I began to feel something up there literally start to recede. That is when I started burning up all inside. I did not want to go to work, I was ashamed to be seen at the grocery store. I was screaming inside. I silently panicked, suddenly I muted my cry. I thought of my wife in the next room. But I couldn't stop the steady flow of raw tears that flowed from my blue eyes. Just then I made a decision to hold off and stop the combing of my hair and actually tried not think about jumping in nearby Lake Michigan. My hair was literally falling out all over the place. I had actually known it for some time, just tried not to think about it until now. I was not about to add gasoline to a roaring fire.

By the way, my name is Justin Roberts and I’m going bald. I'm a middle age clean-cut professional plumber of many pipes. At this point, I am wondering what to do. I always thought that all professionals, whatever world they possessed, were supposed to have a full head of great healthy looking hair and more. I know that sounds kind of silly, however, it is something I had always felt. I told myself. My feelings were wrong.

Still in much total shock at my pending hair disaster and my forever messed up appearance, I kept asking myself what in the world was I going to do? How could I face my friends? What would my family think? As far as I was concerned, my life was over, again, as far as I was concerned. My wife might not love me anymore. I immediately quietly closed the door to the bathroom because I did not want my sexy wife to hear me scream my brains out in heartfelt pain. I sat down dejectedly on the toilet seat and soon buried, sadly, my face into my cold hands. I thought about the world. However, I'm sure that my wife heard me shut the door, no matter how quietly I tried to make it. It always seemed like my wife had a sixth sense, she always could tell if something was wrong, especially with me. But I soon realized that I really did not want to kill myself, I really just wanted to cry and feel sorry for myself and then some more. And boy I sure did. I didn't want to show my broken face. I was losing my precious hair and I did not want to leave the bathroom but I knew that one day I would really have too, and I was not ready for it.

Here, I had been all over the planet and this entire time meeting and greeting everyone that I love, when they all knew, including close friends, that my hair was falling out at the seams and no one bothered to mention that fact to me. I thought that I was looking good. I guess I should have stopped fooling myself, if only I had paid close enough attention to what was going on with my head. Maybe it was something I just wanted to hide or just pretended not to see the obvious. That was not realistic. Anyway, I was now really upset. I moved closer and closer to the mirror. I knew that more excessive crying was not going to make the hair I lost magically reappear. I could not turn off the tears. I sat down again and dropped my head, again, into my now dried and trembling hands. My mind went momentarily blank. Suddenly I quickly jumped up and pushed my oval face back into the mirror and ran my fingers over the bald spots, moaning and groaning like a sick goat. I was actually witnessing my hair receding in front of my very own icy and now cold eyes. My wife began calling for me from the bedroom. I did not want to leave the bathroom. However, I knew I could not live there. She wanted to make more love. So I left the bathroom a little less jubilant than when I first went in. I lay frozen right next to my lovely wife, Samantha, who was wearing a mini sky blue silky gown which had been a birthday gift from me. It seemed she was always panty less.
She leaped on top of me and began kissing me as if she had been starved to death. She has always been a very sexual spouse. As soon as she came up for air, I managed to start my lips to moving. "I have known you for almost two years, baby, why didn't you tell me I was balding? Sam was caught off guard by the question and continued to roll off me. Sam, as I called her, was very surprise to hear me speak about my hair. But this was serious.
"What?" she asked beaming at me.
"I have two bald spots" I told her, solemnly.
"Justin, everybody knew that you had been balding for a long time and no one really cared."
"Everybody knew but me?!" I shouted.
"Justin, I love you and your receding hairline, bald spots and all. I'm your wife. You have a family."
She then gave me a big beautiful wifely smile.
"I guess it's some kind of early midlife crisis after passing thirty-five, or something," I said.

I did my best in the lovemaking department for the night, mainly because my heart just wasn't there at all. Samantha would never complain. However, she was now fast asleep. I was still feeling so apprehensive that my stomach began to turn and burn just to think more about losing all my beautiful head of hair each day, if not for months. I was becoming depressed. I felt like nothing. My boyish looks were fading. Sam understood my feelings; at least I thought she did. “Good night baldy,” she would say playfully over the next few nights. Every time I heard that I felt my skin literally begin to crawl off my lumpy flesh.

I was determined to make the best of what small amount of hair I had left. The following week, I went to the neighbor store and purchased some processed waving cream, black hair dye and other hair stuff for my continuing receding hairline and now itchy scalp. I wanted to try to slick back what I had left and then comb the remaining hair up from the sides of my head to the top. I wanted to try and completely camouflage my massively growing bald spots. That monstrous sign of aging. The next day I went to work with my new slick back hair-do. I could hear co-workers snickering with many of their catcalls. Most of them were up in arms about my new hair and the conditioning. Some couldn't stop silently busting a gut. When Sam learned what I had done with the balance of the hair that I had left, she immediately told me that she hated it. In a large way, I agreed with her. I didn't like it either. I looked even more foolish. I had to think of something else. I got rid of the poorly managed hair waves and weaves. It just wasn’t me. So I started looking in the community phone directories for hair restoration clinics. They were plentiful. However, I chose not to deal with any of them. I quickly but reluctantly gave that option up, at least for a while. Meanwhile, I sat around the house on some days purposely alone. No TV, no video games, no time with the children, and no cell phone calls.
There was always more hair in the comb than on my head. My wife always gave me her full support at whatever else I decided to do with my fading hairline dilemma; she would always voice her approval or disapproval either way. However, sometimes, I could hear her cracking a wallop of a belly laugh silently within herself at my surreal situation. Weeks later, I was now starting to look as if the birds had been plucking out from the top of my head. I needed to do something fast. But what?
I continued to beat my brains in trying to find a solution to my receding and unruly bad hair days. "Stop worrying about your hair, baby. I'll never leave you and you have plenty of friends, Sam would say the next morning, affectionately. She was still trying to be sweet and loving as always. And it was working.
A week later, I walked into our house late one evening with my brand new hair look and proceeded on directly into the bedroom where Sam was sitting upright on the bed and knitting herself a colorful winter sweater. She peered over and up at my new look, and saw the changes and nodded her approval. And then she shouted.
"I love it. Justin, I really like what you have done. Honey, please stay that way. You are even more handsome than before."
"I bet."
At this point, I had a completely shaven head and now I was really bald. I was shining on top like a crystal or maybe a cue ball. All my hair was GONE. I had no choice; I didn't have to worry any more about those birds. And I was very ecstatic that Sam actually loved it. I had the feeling that she was somehow really and truly proud of me.

I soon went to have some pictures taken. I needed a new Facebook photo. I was still just getting use to my real new self; I went out and bought some new clothes. Suddenly my smile was brighter. There was now a bit more pep in my step. Maybe I could get use to this bald thing. Later that evening I grabbed the SUV, a total gas guzzler, and just went for a ride to let the wind blow onto my bald head, but then quickly decided that I should be on my way to a book release celebration where a Facebook friend had invited me on this day some weeks back. Incidentally, on my Facebook photo, I have a full head of hair; maybe no one would recognize me now being bald. However, I was going to this literary event anyway. I just would have to explain this new look to all those who might find it somewhat amusing. The home was located in the city of Wilmette, a suburb of State of Illinois, not that far from our home. I had never been to the home before. Besides sporting a bald head, I was dressed casually in blue jeans, black gym shoes, and a golf shirt. The traffic was light and that made it easy sailing. I should say it made the driving a breeze. I somehow lucked up and found a parking place right in front of the house. I really wasn’t expecting much, it was just an evening out without the family. I’m sure they would understand. It was a nice house, with a well-kept front lawn with a flower garden in full bloom with colored decorations all around the home. I had always dreamed of living in a house like that with my family. Maybe someday, I thought.

Someone had spotted me from the front window of the house and was now coming out to greet me. It appeared to me that not many guests had arrived yet for the new book release event. I was wondering if I had come a bit too early. The person coming towards me was an average looking female that appeared to be in her late twenties, she was wearing an assorted colored house robe and sandals. Her dark hair was down to her shoulders and as she approached my car she seemed in good spirits.
“Hi, are you here for the new book release celebration?” she asked.
“Yes, I was invited by a Facebook friend that I assume lives here.” I replied.
“That’s my bother Josh. He is expecting you.”
“If his name is Josh Randall, then he’s the one,” I said.
“You are Justin?
”That’s me.”
“My name is Sally.”
“Since we practically lived in the same area, I thought I would drop by,” I said.
“Come on into the house and meet everyone.”
“Everyone?” I asked, looking around and seeing only my car.
Sally noticing my curiosity.
“Most of the invitees parked their cars in the rear of the house, I guess you did not get the memo.”
“I guess I did not,” I said.
“Well you got it now.”
“Should I go move my car to the rear of the house?”
“No, actually you are fine.”
I walked into the big house and there was a small crowd of strangers who had called themselves my friends on a social networking website. I recognized most of them from their uploaded photos and profiles. Some were standing, some were sitting, and some were sleeping. Most had drinks in their hands. I believe some were authors and writers with a book or an article published somewhere. Everyone stared pleasantly at me as I followed the young female over to a small group of guys who were standing and talking in one corner of the house. She soon turned in my direction and said, “I’m sorry you could have brought your wife or girlfriend.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Hey babe, this is another Facebook friend arriving for the party, Justin Roberts.”
“Glad to finally meet you in person, Justin.” He was author Eric Fonda, a fairly young man of thirty-five maybe, he appeared more cordial and I assumed Sally was his girlfriend or wife or something.
“We are all Facebook friends here.”
“Looks like fun, and thanks for the invite” I responded.
“Always and anytime, my man.”
“So I heard that the book is doing great.” I said.
“Hey it is, it really is. Justin walk over to the table and pick yourself up a copy. It’s on the house, my friend.”
“Thanks Eric.”
“You look different than your picture on your website, Justin.”
“I admit I sure do and it is all because I just recently shaved my head.” I said smiling bashfully.
“I think he looks handsome for his almost old age.”
“I think you are right.”
I walked over to the table through now a maze of guests to get my free copy of his book. 'Mass Destruction for the Ages' was the name of the book. I was glad for Eric that he succeeded in getting his work published. I have always been told writing is a hard job and then comes the marketing. Maybe that is why I never became a writer.

“Where did it all go?”
‘Where did all what go?” I asked myself, “Down the drain, on the floor, in the comb, in the hair brush, it just fell out all over the freaking place,” I railed. There were laughs coming from all around from that disjointed statement. I was starting to feel good about breaking some of the ice in the room.
“I cried for days and weeks,” I told them all.

Suddenly it sounded like a sonic boom had just struck the exterior of the house; everyone inside including myself, was literally shaken and rocked and just thrown around inside of the home. Suddenly there was nothing. Later everyone had returned to their feet very slowly but hobbling around like they were all punk drunk. There was a gigantic hole now in the ceiling. We could see the blue skies, through a large hole in the roof of the house. Whatever it was it had put a damper on the event.
“What the hell was that Eric?” everyone was asking.
“I don’t know, believe me, I don’t know.”
Suddenly we were all staring in unison up at the ceiling and the hole, when we should have been running for our lives. There came this silently whistling sound that most of us heard. It felt like something else was going to come through the roof of the house, once again, at very high speeds and it appeared we were trapped where we all were standing. If felt like we only had seconds to live. I wanted to call my wife and kids. I needed to check on my car parked out directly in front of Eric’s house. However, like the others I did not dare move. I was right, something was coming for the house again and it was coming through the roof and it was coming really fast. We were now scared shitless. It felt like we were just waiting for a massive impact of whatever, and it was coming directly at us from out of the sky to kill everyone in the house. The whistling sound had increased and it caused our ears to ache and to bleed. I started for the door. Before I could reach the door something huge had blasted through the roof of the house at supersonic speeds and with much velocity. It possessed an oval shape and it slapped everyone inside the house into the walls and everywhere at warped swiftness. The impact felt like the world had been shaken. I heard bones breaking, maybe my own. Whatever it was, it was now inside the home with whomever else that was still alive. The house was now a total wreck as if a high powered hurricane had leveled the structure. It was not over, something was still raining down on the little city of Wilmette and on this house. I was on what use to be called the floor of the house, face down, and not wanting to move a muscle. I kept on hearing something repeatedly falling to the ground and around the house with thunderous impact that seemed to jolt the entire earth. It felt like I was in a nightmare that I could not wake up from, no matter how hard I tried. I struggled to breathe. I kept wondering if I was dead and at some stage, I really thought I had died. I could feel massive pain all over my body. I wanted to call my wife; I wanted to be with my kids. I was stuck inside this calamity and afraid to move or even to moan. I knew that the house had been ripped apart because the wind cold drafts on my body were becoming unbearable. I was lying face down on the floor and I refused to move. Maybe, I couldn’t move.

Later I heard voices; maybe it was sounds from outer space. The voices were coming closer and closer and it could have been someone talking from inside the home, hence, the voices were muffled. I could not make out any reasonable audio. Something was now moving. It was me! I was moving, or was it something moving me? If I was dead, I was going to stay dead and if I was actually alive then I would play dead. Either way I was dead. It felt like two or three of something had dug me out of whatever I had been in and then lifting and carrying me away. I was hurting something awful. A soft sound suddenly drifted from my bloody cracked lips. “He’s alive! This guy is alive, get him to the ambulance and to the hospital before he dies.” I was totally alive but not so well that I could really speak, but it felt like my entire face had been smashed in by a jack hammer. Now I wanted to stand up but I felt paralyzed. My legs felt like they had been crushed, it seemed my brain had been in a blender and was scrambled all to hell. I heard more talking around me. It started to feel like I was being rescued or something. I quickly fell back to sleep.

I woke up later in a hospital; this time I was able to open my eyes and saw my lovely wife Samantha and our children at my bedside with foggy visualization. They all were very emotional at the sight of me and whatever condition I was in. I was trying to speak; it seemed my voice was way down in my stomach somewhere, I kept trying to bring it up with not much luck. My family saw that I was trying to speak. I wanted them to tell me what happened. Especially, what had happened to me? I believe they saw that in my weary blood shot eyes. I was bandaged over half my body.

“Justin, several meteorites fell onto the house where you were visiting.” I heard my wife say.
I was stunned. I thought it was a hurricane or something. However, Samantha was so beautiful I wanted to make love to her right in front of the children. That was not to be, at least not for now. “They fell out of the sky from space all around that area, and a few people died.”
“Daddy please don’t die.”
“Daddy is not going to die, are you daddy?”
I wanted to hug and kiss my children, however, that would have to wait.
“The news reports said the meteorites had become fireballs as they entered earth’s atmosphere.”
I knew it had to be something really big and awesome.
“Justin, you look even better with your bald head, not a scar or scratch can be seen.”
But what about the rest of me? I can feel all the pain in the world, I wanted to say. Did you enjoy the book event?” my wife asked me.
“Are you kidding me, I’m lying in a hospital bed. Look at me, Samantha; does it look like I enjoyed myself? I was hit by a freaking meteorite!” If only she could have heard that.

I’m not a writer, I don’t even read that much. I only read the numbers on my paycheck that is enough reading for me. I could care less for someone's books. Most authors do not make any real money at writing unless they are someone famous or well-known, like a politician or a movie star or a television personality. However, I do understand the joy of being published. However, writing is something I never came to grips with, I never found the passion. The only writing I do is signing my name on my paycheck. I only went to this event because I wanted to show off my new bald look to some of my Facebook friends, and not to get hit in the head by meteorites. What a bummer.

“It looks like you are going to be in hospital for a couple of days, Justin, just that we love you so very much.” Soon they left the room on instructions from the doctors. My wonderful family had left me in the hands of strangers in white coats. Strangers that they trusted to get me back home very soon. For some reason I wanted to know more about the meteorites that almost killed me. Some of my Facebook friends had died in that house, I had overheard someone saying. What a tragedy. One of the doctors looked at me amusedly and said, ”How are we doing baldy?” Another dumb question, I thought.

After a day in the hospital, I was wondering to myself if I still actually had a job anymore. I still needed to take care of my family; I was still the bread winner. However, with all the budget cuts and the halting of funding to vital human resources that was causing monumental layoffs and serious heartache for most around the United States, it made me think about my own responsibilities. After two days under doctors’ care, I was going home to my wife and kids. So far I still have health insurance. On the day of my release, Samantha came to pick me up in her car while the kids were away at school. I could speak again. Never thought I would miss talking but I sure did. Nurses had escorted me outside the hospital to the car. I guess they wanted to make sure I didn’t fall and bust my head wide open again.
Now that I was all tidy down and tucked in, we were finally off. The hospital was now in the rearview mirrors of my wife’s car. “How do you feel, Justin? She asked.
“I feel good, now. I replied.
“We are glad to have you home.”
“I’m glad to be going home.”
“You still look good for a bald headed dude,” she said trying to be funny.
“I can’t wait to get you home and rip your clothes all the way off.”
“I can’t wait either but be careful you don’t want to reinjure yourself again, darling.”
“I missed you guys very much, Samantha.”
“We missed you too, Justin, really bad.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”

As we drove, I turned to a glossy side panel located on part of the passenger door and gazed at my reflection staring back at me. It was like I was looking into a mirror. I saw my tired and weary appearance. Somehow I started dreaming and visualizing about the full head of hair that I use to have and that I had cherished so very much, and now I was asking myself, where did it all really go?
Lucky to be alive.

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