Yesterday I got up and got myself over to the hair place for a nine 0’clock coloring job. Two hours. The lady who does my hair remarked that I didn’t have much gray, which is good, I suppose. However, the gray I do have sits on the top of my head like a beanie – kind of the reverse of when I was little and had a Brownie beanie on top of blonde hair. SpellCheck, wants me to take the “e” off of blonde; yep, redline again. To heck with them. Okay, maybe I’m being petty. SpellCheck is also getting a redline; this one is sort of satisfying.
The reason I didn’t mention the name of the lady who does my hair is because while she was cutting my daughter-in-law’s hair as my color absorbed, she related the news that her granddaughter had died at age eight months last spring. Her parents had taken her into the ER two or three times and been sent home and then, a day before she died of dehydration, another ER admitted her.
I have had my hair done between then and now; I did not know this. But her birthday would have been Friday . . .
What you don’t know about people who pass through your life . . .
On Fridays I go work with a prison ministry at a women’s prison that is also a substance abuse facility. While I know there are many stories there I tend to not ask because they can be overwhelming and sometimes you just don’t want to know. Last Friday I was talking with a woman who I have counseled with for several months and she casually mentioned her oldest child was turning 15. You could have knocked me over with a feather. In all the months she had never even mentioned children. Most of the women who have kids mention them a lot and are anxious to improve their lives so they can get their kids back (most are with the state) but she never had. I asked her how many kids she had and she said…. seven. Seven. Seven kids. She’s only 32 years old. It took me by surprise. But then I remember my step mother had nine kids in 13 years and she started when she was 15. By 32 she was a grandmother and helping raise her granddaughter.
I asked the woman in the prison why she’d never mentioned her kids before and she got very sober looking and said, “I am not good for my kids and until I can be good for them they are better off where they are.” I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard one of the prisoners admit that. Didn’t know if it was sad or refreshing.
I’m thinking about this.