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On Saturday I was at Artistik Edge, my hair salon, and a sanctuary of safety and comfort for generations of women.  As Lacy, my hairdresser, moved me to the sink to wash my hair, I noticed a woman at the next sink. She was probably in her late 70′s, maybe older.  Her skin had a powdery, parchment look to it that reminded me of my mother.  The woman was dressed in old-fashioned pants and a baggy shirt and had her eyes closed while her hair was washed and her neck massaged.  A subtle look of pleasure came into her face.

With a whoosh I was thinking of Mom and the deep pleasure she got from little luxuries.  She never scheduled massage, facials, manicures, pedicures, or any other personal care pleasures for herself.  Her haircut appointment only lasted 30 minutes each month, but it was a price she was comfortable paying.  Any sensual treatments she received were gifts from her daughters.

Later in the appointment, I checked my watch and realized I was wearing a Seiko watch that I had given Mom several years ago.  She had been thrilled when she opened the package. It was an inexpensive gift, but it had filled her with delight.  Remembering Mom and her watch made me feel closer to her.

While Lacy was cutting my hair, her own mother came in for her monthly color and cut.  The two of them had an easy camraderie.  Her mom waited in the chair next to mine while Lacy worked on me.  The two of them chatted away.  I wished I had more shared beauty parlor moments with Mom.  I regretted that I did not have a fun relationship with my Mom when I was Lacy’s age but was happy for Lacy and her mom.  They did not even think about being lucky. They just enjoyed being themselves together.

When she was alive, Mom lived about two miles from Artistik Edge.  I used to drop by before or after hair appointments. On Saturday I felt a strong urge to go see Mom and talk to her about the latest ideas I was marinating. Even when she was in a demented state, she shook it off and eagerly participated when I discussed my ideas about work with her.  I think she felt very alive during those conversations, maybe because it reminded her of the pleasure she used to get when she had a new idea and then developed it into a pragmatic reality.  I was so sad that she was no longer there.  I was so happy that I had as much good time with her as I did.Remembering those who have passed always has an element of sadness to it, yet as time passes the memories actually become a part of the joy of being alive.

Copyright TheNewElder 2012