First Love

I sat choking back a sob in the hairdresser's chair on Saturday. Even though my hair color is now a creepy shade of black, the sob had nothing to do with the hair cut or color. I'll just wear black lipstick and say it's a statement.

It was the client in the chair next to me. She was a beautiful girl, getting her hair done for her wedding. As the hair dresser rolled the long strands, she was asking the usually questions, from who is doing your tuxs to what is on the menu, and what music are you playing at the reception? The questions continued ... the usual fair. I thought the bride looked about 18 but when she went to the hair dryer, I found out she was a young looking 23 with tons of good long thick hair. That's not why I choked the sob, either.

It happen when the hair dresser asked if she would have her dad walk her down the isle. The bride answered "No, my dad died about 5 years ago, my brother is walking me down the isle and he and my mom will answer, when asked who will give this bride in marriage." She didn't seem emotional when she was stating her sad fact. She would have been 17 when her dad died. I wanted to know how he died but I didn't bring it up on her wedding day. But I felt the choked sob stuck in the back of my throat. I was glad that, I didn't see her face since she was turned away from me. My eyes stung for a few moments while I regrouped. I was glad my hair dresser had stepped away while I was processing.

My mind flew instantly to my own dad's death six years ago. I'm not sure if the choked sob was for the bride who had lost her dad and wouldn't be escorted down the isle by him, or for my fatherless self.

I was escorted down the isle by my dad, I had 23 more years with my dad than the bride next to me. He walked me down the isle in the first and only tux he ever wore. He was so handsome that day, he was my first love.