Hair Salon

I walked into the hair salon knowing I really needed a hair cut.  It had been almost a year since I last went and I was way overdue.  The layers in my hair were no longer layers, but a mass of hair that had a hard time keeping to itself.  My stylist’s name was Morgan.  She was this southern belle that reminded me of motherly hospitality.  Sweet as sugar with a slim, feminine physique.  At one point she let me touch her thin, blonde hair.  I didn’t think much of her when we first started chatting.  She was sweet, asking me questions about myself.  Where do you go to school? What are you studying? Wow, you want to be a writer? She was thrilled at the idea of me being a writer.  She said she wished she could be a writer.

Morgan told me she had a Bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education.  She came from a family of doctors and teachers, but she never felt like it was what she was called to do.  Her husband noticed that she was always looking at styling videos on Youtube and makeup tips in magazines, so he suggested that she take cosmetology.  She told me she thought it was fun working with hair and makeup, but she still wasn’t sure if it was it.  We sat in silence as she continued to snip my hair.  No heat, I told her beforehand, my hair doesn’t react well to it.  What do you want to write about? Do you want to start a blog? She was so curious, more than people usually were.  I happily recollected moments in my life where I was happy with books, essays, articles.  The words came naturally to me.  “Wow, that’s so nice!” she’d exclaim, or “That’s so beautiful.”  Her words were like warm soup going down your stomach.  I was quiet again, soaking in her sweet honeyed words.  Her words made me feel like a child being praised for good things.  Did I mention she also adores children?

She began to tell me about her husband.  She was married at 21 because she just knew she met the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. “Wow,” I said, “that’s really young.”  “It happens you know,” she told me, “everyone thought I was crazy when I got married so young.  I had only been with him for 3 months, but if you know, then you know.  We have been married for sixteen beautiful years.  We have one beautiful boy together.  I love him and he was everything I had ever want in a person.  He was smart, funny, handsome, and had great faith.”

I suppose it was in that instant where our conversation clicked with me.  She had this amazing capacity of love and exhortation.  Her words were so genuine that I felt warm inside.  It was a mysterious thing that she was my stylist of all people that day.  It was something I didn’t know I needed.  With my hair three inches shorter with lots of layers, she thanked me for my company and gave me a hug.

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