Life is a Trick....

I should have known better than to make a hair-coloring appointment on Halloween. Actually, I like the color...it's more burnished coppery than my once-golden-turned-straw-like-blonde highlights of recent weeks--with chalk gray roots thrown in for good measure.

But when I arrived at the snooty, "Featured In Essence Magazine" Atlanta natural hair salon I'd found online--about 20 minutes before my 2 PM appointment, mind you--the receptionist told me I couldn't eat the sandwich I'd brought with me. Not even in the front reception area. Not even if I made a blood oath vow to not drop a crumb. So I had to walk across the street and gulp down my lunch on the brick wall surrounding the parking lot of the office complex next door.

Then, "Miss Chrissy," my 23-year-old infant stylist, was 30 minutes late getting around to my nappy head. Actually, for a black hair salon, 30 minutes late is blessedly early. But when Miss Chrissy showed me the color she'd picked out. I had to pump her brakes right quick. She chose a "fiery red" guaranteed to win me unanimous acceptance into the the Hoochie Hall of Fame if I'd been crazy enough to follow her advice. Since Miss Chrissy didn't have any more subtle shades to offer, I had to run across the street to the beauty supply shop and buy my own hair color. By the time I got back to the salon, a walk-in client had diverted Miss Chrissy's attention from my head to the sure-fire bird in the hand customer. So I had to sit and wait another 45 minutes while she did a "quick" re-twist.

Long story short, I left that salon at 7:15 PM following a 2 PM appointment. Miss Chrissy actually did a good job. The style wasn't quite what I wanted, but when I got back to my sister Marilyn's house, she raved over it. So I guess I'll just have to get used to it.

Just like I have to get used to being tricked, hoodwinked and bamboozled every single day for the rest of my life. For the most part, the past two days have actually been almost normal. I connected with a local SAAB dealership and got quotes for all the repair work I'll need to "Pimp My Ride," a sweet 2002 SAAB 93 hatchback I've named FiFi. I also bought two rear tires from Costco, and got my watch battery changed. Last night, I had dinner with one of the young women I mentored when she was a high school student in Detroit. Jamila just took a job editing the food section of the Atlanta Journal Constitution, and I couldn't help feeling really proud of her success.

I mean, I'm doing what I'd be doing on any kind of return trip from Africa, taking care of business, paying bills, making arrangements for my car, getting my ducks in a row before heading back to the Mother Land. The difference is that these days, I'll be sitting in traffic, or standing in line at Costco and all of a sudden reality gobsmacks me BIG TIME...

Julie is dead. That fact is so blunt, so overwhelming, it's like being punched in the chest, really hard. My eyes well with tears at semi-regular intervals, and I'll look down and my hands are shaking, or my breathing is shallow. I'll remember that last big pain-addled smile she gave me, or I'll think of her when she was on the go at one of her meetings, or lounging like a queen on vacation. My emotions start to teeter right at the brink, and I'm tempted to throw a shrieking snot-fit in public. But most of the time, just as quickly, the feeling passes.

I've decided THAT'S the ultimate trick of life. It tends to happen, whether you're up for it or not. You can choose to blunt your reality with drugs or alcohol, to buy a few minutes or hours of pain-free thought. But unless you're hooked to a Jack Daniels IV drip, that numbness wears off, and what caused your emotional pain will still be there, snarling at you, defying you to stay sane.

So the trick is to CHOOSE to keep on keepin' on. To try to accept Life on its own terms, and not rail against reality. However, I still retain the right to throw a shrieking snot-fit in public at least once in the next few months. I'm actually looking foward to it.