Hairdresser

I've been going to the same hairdresser for over ten years.

I'm greeted by name when I walk in the door - by the receptionist, the mother of someone I went to K-12 school with.

As I head to the bathroom, I'm greeted by a hairdresser that I've known since I was a child, who has seen me grow through all my hairstyles and colors.

I leave the bathroom and am greeted by my hairdresser with a hug and a "how are you?" She gets me settled and says, "What are we doing today?"

I tell her I loved what we did last time, but maybe a little darker. Somehow,  she remembers exactly what colors those were.

I relax comfortably in the chair, recognizing a woman sitting next to me - who I also went to school with.

While she adds the color, we chat about my husband, the weather, my job. She comments on how long my hair is getting (we've been working on that for a few years now!) and we decide to leave the length alone to encourage it to keep growing rather than lose some length.

She settles me back in a seat, bringing me water and a lollipop (she knows me well) and sets the timer.  She'll shampoo me, and I'll catch up on her little girl, and she'll catch up on my life.

For now I sit, listening to the sounds around me - laughter from the front desk, a hairdryer, the sink turning on and off, the pages of a magazine.  I smell dye, shampoo, hairspray. I feel relaxed, comfortable, cared for.

These few minutes are mine today. Mine to be pampered, taken care of, relaxed.