The Porch Swing

This morning during my quiet time, I was thinking about how far God has brought me in healing the grief of losing my mom....I have an appointment to get my hair cut this afternoon.

My mom was a hairdresser. From the time I was two and needed my bangs trimmed for the first time until the month before she died, she was the only person I ever remember cutting my hair. She gave me beautiful cuts, funky colors, too-curly perms and helped me learn to deal with rapidly graying hair as I aged. October 17, 2003 was the day I said my last good-bye to her. It was also about the time I started cutting my own hair. The idea of sitting in someone else's chair was too much for me. Even thinking about it made me cry.

My family tried from then until November of last year to convince me to make an appointment with a hairdresser. They understood my sadness, but were concerned about my lack of talent in the hair-cutting department. I thought it looked pretty good, once I sprayed it in place to the point of breaking off before it moved. They disagreed. Words like "choppy", "uneven", "unusual" were gently used to describe my work and encourage me to see someone who knew what they were doing.

So about six months ago, I relented and scheduled an appointment with someone other than my mother (or me) to cut my hair. And I've done it every month since. Today is the first appointment I've actually looked forward to. I wasn't teary at my last appointment and so I'm not apprehensive about going anymore. The woman is skilled and kind and understanding. I like her.