Farewell to a Stylist

Courtesy iit.edu/~parkjef

Today, I got a haircut.  And not just any haircut – it was likely the last haircut that I will ever get in Minneapolis.  Now, that wouldn’t be so odd except that I have a regular stylist.  Yes, a stylist.  It’s not like a sought out this stylist; I just came in one day and she gave me a haircut.  And then, almost every time I dropped in for two years after that, she happened to be working that day.

So because I’ve seen her so many times, we struck up conversation randomly as one often does during a haircut.  I’m not sure if such idle chitchat is for my or my stylist’s sake, but it just always seems appropriate – much less awkward than sitting in silence, anyway.

As a result of this, when I came in today, the first thing she said was “Oh, I thought you’d already moved!”  Yes, this is the kind of familiarity I have with someone who takes scissors to my head.  We chatted amiably as usual – about moving, about movies, about the weather – and then as I was paying came to an awkward moment.  I cunningly said, “So I suppose this is the last time I’ll be coming in,” to which she replied with equal enthusiasm, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Awkward.  It almost felt like a break-up, except that neither of us actually cared that we’d never see each other again.  And as I walked out, I wondered just how many of these little interactions I’m going to have in the next two months.  We close on the house April 30 and are out of our apartment May 31, so there’s not much time left.  Most of the people I know are academics in I/O, so I’ll be seeing many of them at least once a year for… well, a long time.  But the others, I may be leaving behind forever.  Should I be sad?  Pensive?  Indifferent?  Does it matter at all?