The memory’s as sharp and fuzzy as 40 years in between allows, but I think I remember because it’s the day I was born a people pleaser.

I had never been to Guys and Dolls salon before, but my hair needed a trim and whoever was in charge of me thought it was a good place to go.  Funny, all the details I can’t remember–who was it who dropped me off?

“What does your mother do?” the hairdresser asked.  Question benign and routine to her was poison-dipped dart penetrating my already-shattered nine-year-old heart.

My chin quivered, tucked low; she attempted a straight line.  I was glad she couldn’t see my eyes…notice me flinch under my vinyl shroud.  I concentrated on all that hair on the floor, leftovers from others, furry, matted cloud animals.  Could anyone else see those three blind mice?  It would’ve been easier to be one of them.

“Oh, she doesn’t work,” I answered, willing back a flood.  In a literal sense, I suppose I wasn’t even lying.

Mama had lost her five-year battle with cancer earlier that spring.

* * * * * * * *

Please continue reading The Pleaser at A Deeper Familya recently-created, family-centric iteration of Deeper Story.  

Take note:  stories won't be all warm and fuzzy.  The definition of family will be broad, and its inherent complexity and dynamics will make for an interesting read.  I'm thrilled to join an amazing group of storytellers who are certain to make you cry and laugh and most of all think, especially as we consider "family" in relation to faith, heritage and becoming who we are.  


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