DEAR PRUDENCE

Dear Prudence: When I was in kindergarten, I had a rat tail hairstyle that my mom was very into, but the other kids made fun of me about it, and eventually I decided to get my hair cut. My mom was very sad about it at the time and decided to save the long lock of hair after it was cut.

She’s kept it in a chest for about 30 years now, but as she’s planning to move out of her current house, she mailed me three big boxes of photo albums, random school work, etc., and in one of the boxes was my rat tail, sandwiched in a scrapbook! What do I do with a 30-year-old rat tail? I don’t feel right throwing it away, but I’m very creeped out.

—Distressed Former Rat Tail Owner

Dear Former Rat: I’m guessing this thing is pretty small, right? I would totally support you in throwing it in the trash, but if that truly feels wrong, place it in an envelope, and stick it in the back of your junk drawer or on a shelf in your storage shed or way back in that unreachable place at the top of the linen closet.

Now it’s out of your life, you never have to think about it (until you move or something, at which point maybe you’ll be ready to say goodbye) and your problem is solved.

Alternatively, you could have a little ceremony. I’m serious, hear me out: It sounds like the attachment you and your mom share to this little bundle of hair could represent deeper feelings about your childhood, the painful experience of being teased, and maybe the angst associated with asserting your independence from your mom — in terms of your hairstyle and just growing up in general.

Perhaps there’s also something there about the loss of your childhood home and your mom moving on to the next stage of her life that’s making all of this feel even more intense.

So, lay the rat tail on the table, light a candle, and journal in response to the following prompts: “What does it feel like to think about the year I wore this hairstyle?” “How did I feel when I finally cut it?” “What does it signify to my mom, and what does it signify to me?” “What are my hopes for the way my mom and I relate to each other over the next 30 years?”

Sit and look at the hair and reflect. As Marie Kondo would say, thank it for its service. And go toss it into the water at the beach or into the bushes at a nice scenic dog park and move on with your life.