In the salon, Wendy, who sees me coming in and senses my mood, whipped out a particularly inviting  greeting.

” What’s happening laaaaady?”

” Turning the page on another year.  OMG- how did I get to be this age?”  Screening my head for imperfections , she stroked my shoulder.

” You don’t need hi-lights, and you look terrific.

” That’s not enough,  I haven’t planned well.

” You’re an artist, you create..

” You sure I don’t need hi-lights

” No, you look fab-u-lous.”

Two women in the salon, the conversation cuts through all of our individuality, and ends up in the center, of our tribal understanding, our sensitivities, and insecurities.