The car wreck was 3 years ago. Her life ended. Maybe she explains woe to all of her customers. It was the long tissue hair dam destined for my neck that this hair stylist somehow misdirected for it whipped across my open mouth like gag. She giggled at this and I eased her embarrassment by saying ‘ okay I can take the hint — you do the talking then 🙂 ‘ This she did — by proceeding to explain the somehow of that impaired nerve damaged arm, the botched remedial repairs the side effects that ravaged her body, the intolerance to cold weather, the laryngitis caused by medical procedure, the permanent vocal cord damage and lung damage by that medication, the pains killers, the… As a captive audience, I’m taking this all in with eyes studying a framed family portrait on the booth counter top. The picture transformation from her former life was startling. The woman cutting my hair was withered. Frail. A shattered wracked tormented shell of her former self. The framed picture included young children. I wondered if they had been in the car. I didn’t want to go there. In my younger years I would have tuned this downer right out. But, with maturity, comes a discovered sense that life is precious and fragile. Drive safely.