Things are Getting Hairy!

So, I cried over my hair yesterday.

Yes, you read that right I CRIED over HAIR. Now as ridiculous as that sounds, I will try my best to rationalize why that was a logical way of dealing with a very minor problem. You see, I got my hair cut at the end of April/beginning of May before we moved. It was pretty much before my life began the spiralling of insanity from which we are starting to recover. May, June, July and August are blurs of my memory filled with boxes, tears and mixed emotions. When Zach started school, I decided that I would finally get my hair cut and get highlights. It was quite a mess, the color of the ends didn't remotely match the roots, and the layers that I had never learned to manage were out of control. So, I asked around and got the name of the girl that everyone uses (which due to the size of our small town, everyone really did use the same person). The problem was, everyone uses her. So I had to book an appointment for two weeks later. I decided I would get through the two weeks and be fine. I had been so excited about getting my hair done that I had spent the last week talking about it. When the wonderful day arrived, I was getting Zach ready for school when the phone rang. It was my stylist, letting me know that her infant son was running a fever and she would have to cancel. I tried to politely say okay, and that was the end of that. But when I began to think about how much longer it would be until I could get in, I got very upset. I eventually called Gary and told him and by the time I was done telling him, I was crying. (I figured out later that perhaps I was crying about more than hair, perhaps I was just waiting to cry because I am still adjusting to the many changes a small town brings to a city girl.) Gary lovingly reminded me that I should be happy that I am healthy, and not cry over hair. I am sure that compared to his last patient, my worries probably were not remotely important, but at the time, I was pretty upset. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and although I knew there would not be anyone in town who could squeeze in highlights, I knew I could find someone to at least cut my hair, and that is what I did.

As the dry, split ends fell to the ground, I could feel myself relaxing a little. And then I began to realize how silly it was that I had gotten so bent out of shape over hair. It is, after all, just hair. But it was more than about my hair. It was about me not being able to get my way at the very moment that I wanted. It was about me having to learn to slow down and not be in such a hurry. It was about me learning to handle the unexpected with grace and dignity. And then I realized that this move has a purpose for me. It is more than a job for Gary and a good environment for Zach. It is more than being closer to family. It is a place where I can learn to appreciate what matters. It is a place where I can get some perspective. And I am thankful that we are here, and I am thankful that my hair appointment was canceled. It took a few tears shed over a canceled hair appointment to help me realize what matters.