Friday, August 5, 2011

twenty four hour vacation

I walk into the most perfect lighting. It is eight a m on a weekday and there is a marked absence of anything other than stillness. A marble floor turns into a dark stained wood, outside on the inside. There is a click to step. Here you hear it. I look around, the place feels empty so sit in her chair and take out my camera.


This is different. This is me having a vacation hour with my camera. Maybe sometimes all we have to do is something different than what we normally do. Over/underdrive. Speed seems to be a personal preference. This place this hour this is under   drive.

This is nice.

There are lines which meets curves and colors that pop. A dimness here a brightness there. Doors to open. I get to play with lighting, one of my favorite friends enemies.

So I play.

This is the hair appointment turned impromptu photo shoot.

Here is where I see Angie and am reminded of who I am and where I have been. A good haircut is more than just a haircut. Her haircuts are so good I've been going to her for eighteen, nineteen years. There is a certain time in any good relationship you stop counting or you count and think man, we've been through so much together.

Angie walks in as I am standing in her corner shooting.

We hug like old friends because we are.

The haircut begins, folds out as a history in front of us. I see myself in a very large mirror and wonder where I have been and laugh at myself. We talk about age and bodies and attitudes and our boys. Leegan? Surely not. How in the hell did he get that old, Angie?

She nods and says, Kim tells me Slater is almost twenty. Shea, where have we been?

Oh my gosh. You are so right. I don't know where we went. It is crazy.

She begins putting her fingers through my hair, looks at me in the big mirror, What are we gonna do?

Why are you asking me? Haven't you learned you're the expert?

Just needed to hear it, she smiles and she's forty and she looks great.

We talk about forty. Remember when we turned thirty? About our bodies, about how this is like puberty all over again. Puberty with a twist of freedom. They call it men on pause but I don't think that's the most appropriate term. It feels like a new appreciation for men. Or maybe that is just me and a certain Don Draper from Mad Men.

I even love all his women.

Insanely grateful.

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