Nancy’s Mom
Noel Laflin
4-4-18
I could get a cheaper haircut, but I’d miss out on all of Nancy’s stories.
Ten years ago I wandered into the Echo Hair Salon in need of a trim. I had grown weary of bad haircuts at the likes of Fantastic Sam’s, etc. They had become my fallback after the barber I had grown fond of at a local shop – the one just walking distance from my home - had died.
Thus, taking my chances on a better place, albeit more expensive, I was immediately charmed by pretty, funny, petite Nancy Contreras. And I have been going back ever since.
I go back for a good haircut of course, and a fantastic scalp massage/wash preceding each encounter with the scissors, not to mention the fresh coffee, cookies, and cold beer on hand, but more importantly to hear more of Nancy’s stories – especially those about her mom.
“So mom went out to trim some trees and fell down the hill,” she told me this morning.
“Jesus, Nancy!” I exclaimed, “She’s eighty-seven years old! Why’d you let her do that?”
“Hey!” she replied, “This was a year and a half ago, OK? She was fine. It only took her an hour to crawl back up the hill. I told her next time to tie a rope around her waist.”
“Mom turns eighty-eight next month,” Nancy continued. “She’s studying to get her license.”
“License for what?” I inquired.
“Driving license,” she said. “She thinks it’s time to get one.”
“I thought she already knew how to drive,” I parried.
“She does,” Nancy answered. “But mom thought she should make it legal.”
And so the stories go, month after month, year after year.
I have met Angie, Nancy’s mom, on a few occasions. She has a great sense of humor and does not look her age.
She may be in the salon a month from today when I have my next appointment. It will be her birthday. I think I will bring some rope along as a present.
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