Brief, Sweet, Important

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.

Feeling better.

Inside and out.

But really.

Let's be honest.

How could anyone NOT be happy to see ME?

Always.