My husband dropped me off at the
Melbourne City library, after running up on the curb in our mammoth,
politically incorrect pickup truck. The truck looked a little tipsy when he
pulled away. I laughed lightly, waved vaguely at the retreating truck, and
quipped, “I thought he was going to drive right up to the circulation desk.”
The woman waiting outside the
library for her ride laughed with me.
Then she stopped, looked me over,
and said, “Your hair looks amazing.”
I was delighted, pleased, and flattered.
I flipped my newly streaked and layered haircut.
“My son-in-law is a hair dresser. He’s
a genius. How lucky am I?”
“Not lucky. Blessed. It makes you
look so young.”
“Thank you so much. You’ve made my
day.”
Laughing again, we waved and she
left.
