The hairdresser said she was always happy to see me.
She told me this today, before I had even had a proper blow-out.
She said with a sincere smile, “I’m always happy to see you.”
I am a church worker. Trust, I am not her best tipper.
Plus, I’ve only been a client for less than a year.
She said she was always. Happy.
Always happy to see.
To see me.
It made my day.
Because, you know me.
I’m Irish, I drip with sarcasm.
I love hard, feel hard, and dismiss it all with a laugh and a gag.
I find it difficult to tell people who mean a lot to me that I’m always happy to see them.
I find it difficult to use the words “happy” and “always” and “see” in a sentence.
There’s a liability there.
What if the person comes to let you down, and you’re no longer happy, you no longer want to see her?
What if there might come a time when you can’t see her?
Does that mean you won’t be happy anymore?
That’s the part that scares me.
I stepped out of that fear today, though.
I want to thank Meg You-Know-Who-You-Are of Hair-a-Go-Go who’s always happy to see me.
She put her happy and always and see in a sentence.
She gave it to me without expectation.
And she gave me a killer set of highlights.
Then she left to go pick up her son at daycare because he had a fever.
I left looking better.
Inside and out.
Let’s be honest.
How could anyone NOT be happy to see ME?