I had the hardest time thinking of a title for this one so I'll just tell my story and see if a title presents itself.
I sang on the way home from work today. Happy songs. Thrumming beat that felt like joy. I sang angel of harlem and i sang it just for a friend of mine who I know loves this song. Zooming down the freeway, I moved my arms like a forties USO torch singer and enjoyed myself so much.
As soon as I got home, I ran in the house to kiss Delighted Husband and then dashed off to my neighborhood salon. I love the lady who owns the salon and she loves me back. Which is why I felt comfortable dashing in unannounced and asking for an impromptu do. "Five minutes, no problem" she said.
I sat down in her chair, swigged my icy cold bottled water, savored my atkins almond joy, and waited. Within five minutes, I felt her comb sliding along my scalp, giving her a good look at just how long it had been since I'd taken my sweet self in for scheduled maintenance. It had been too long. But life happens. "He-looo. You no been here long time. I so happy see you. You want same? Same roots? Same highlights?" "Yes, darlin'," I told her, "same is great. same is perfect. give me same."
She knows I am hot-natured, and I had been dashing into my house and out of my house, pausing just long enough to kiss Delighted Husband hello, kiss Delighted Husband goodbye, and change out of my fancy work duds into some running shorts and a t-shirt that I wear to the salon because I wouldn't care if they got hair color gel on them. She'd seen me literally jog into her salon and ask her if she could do me, so she knew I was hot. My sweet hair lady, brought a fan over to my station, a nice tall pedestal fan that swishes back and forth, planted it right in front of my chair, aimed it at my flushed and sweating-at-the-temples face, and turned the fan on high. Maker of Heaven and Earth, did that feel good! "Thank you sweetheart!" I looked at her with a smile that reached my eyes.
She ran back "behind the curtain" which could be a post unto itself. It's so Wizard of Oz how the Sacred Prophets Of Hair dissapear Behind The Curtain into The Sacred Unseen Place and come back bearing the Sacred Oils Of Transforming Power and Beauty. Looking at it like a sociologist, I feel like I woke up in the Egyptian exhibit at a museum. And who wouldn't want to feel like that?
I was touched by what came next. Happy and wired and rushed as I was, having just dashed in from the 95 degree outside world, I was hyperaware of my skin, my hair and my overall awareness of touch. Which is why the Sacred Oils of Transforming Power and Beauty, which for me were a cold white gelpaste that she paints on the roots of my hair. Oh my God, y'all it felt SO GOOD. My sweet hair lady brushed cold paste all over my scalp.
the power of intent. I felt how much love and care was in her touch. You can tell.
Remember that "kids say the wisest things" email that circulated a few years ago where the little 8 year old girl says, "never let your mom brush your hair when she is mad at your dad". Remember that? Well, the exact opposite is true. When my Sweet Hair Lady works on my hair, I can tell that she cares. Not just cares about doing a good job but cares about me. She enjoys watching me feel better.
Delighted Husband and Beloved Child are hungry. And we can't go to dinner till my hair is done and I get home to pick them up, so I tell Sweet Hair Lady this and ask her for a second dryer and round brush so I can help. I dry and style the front of my hair, SHL dries and styles the back. We look like a sitcom. Two laughing girls trying to hurry my hair dry as soon as possible.
By the time she is done, I feel like the belle of the ball. Sweet Hair Lady's mother, who also works at the salon, speaks very little English. But her smile is genuine. "You look like movie star!". I smile back and toss my head. "I feel like movie star!" I say. I leave them an extra big tip and rush out the door.