Follow Up: Hair Cuts

It was that time again, the time where I needed a haircut and I needed it STAT. And after my last experience of my entirely hammered hair stylist nailing the landing of cutting my hair, I called the same barber shop.

And, like normal, I had to call several times. I knew from the last time I got my hair cut that the front desk lady was a vaping addict. In the thirty minutes of my last haircut, the front desk woman went outside approximately six times to vape, and about four of those times she took the cordless front desk phone with her. So I knew I had a 2 in 3 chance of her answering the phone.

And on the second try, she did. After the standard exchange of greetings and introductions, I asked for a hair cut.

"Ohh, well, your normal stylist, she's... out on medical leave. But we can get you in with another person."

My heart did several things in that moment. One: It sunk because I knew she was probably in detox, and no one wants to be in detox. But then my heart soared because taking care of your alcoholism is better than not doing that. And the idea that she was going to get her life together was really nice.

So I went in and got my haircut from another woman. She wore a giant pink dress, had pink hair, and one pink eyebrow. She cut my hair and talked about how her kids changed her life for the better. She informed me that her leg hurt when it was about to rain. It hadn't rained in months, but she said her leg hurt, and that only meant one thing.

The rest of the haircut passed without excitement. I paid, thankful they could fit me in. When I went outside, the air smelled like rain. And then, after months and months of high desert sun, I felt it. Rain.

And it felt a little like a new beginning.

I hope the next time I get my hair cut, my old hair stylist is back, and I hope she's sober.

Here's to new beginnings.