{"id":50131,"date":"2026-10-06T14:47:56","date_gmt":"2026-10-06T07:47:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/?p=50131"},"modified":"2026-10-06T14:47:56","modified_gmt":"2026-10-06T07:47:56","slug":"i-was-the-only-one-willing-to-cut-his-hair-then-he-said-i-have-something-for-you","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/?p=50131","title":{"rendered":"I Was the Only One Willing to Cut His Hair\u2014Then He Said, \u201cI Have Something for You.\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"

My shift was almost over when an old man walked into the salon. It was 6:52 p.m.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Eight minutes until closing.<\/p>\n

I had no idea those eight minutes were about to change my life.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

He entered quietly, careful not to let the door slam behind him.<\/p>\n

His clothes were worn and dirty.<\/p>\n

A brown corduroy jacket shiny at the elbows.<\/p>\n

Gray pants stained around the cuffs.<\/p>\n

Old work boots, one of them split open at the toe.<\/p>\n

His gray hair hung unevenly past his ears, and his beard looked as if he had tried trimming it himself.<\/p>\n

But his eyes stopped me.<\/p>\n

Pale blue.<\/p>\n

Gentle.<\/p>\n

Deep smile lines around the corners.<\/p>\n

For one strange second, he reminded me of my grandfather.<\/p>\n

The old man walked to the reception desk.<\/p>\n

Kayla barely looked up from her phone.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pulled a crumpled dollar bill from his pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a job interview tomorrow. I was hoping I could get a haircut.\u201d<\/p>\n

He carefully flattened the dollar on the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can pay this today. Maybe I could bring the rest next week.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kayla stared at the money.<\/p>\n

\u201cA haircut is fifty dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she looked at his clothes.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man lowered his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI could sweep. Clean the bathrooms. Anything you need.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice became softer.<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody has offered me an interview in months. I just want to look like someone they might hire.\u201d<\/p>\n

Our manager, Brenda, came out of the back office.<\/p>\n

She took one look at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re holding up paying customers.\u201d<\/p>\n

The salon was empty.<\/p>\n

But the man didn\u2019t argue.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

He picked up the dollar and folded it into a tiny square.<\/p>\n

Then he turned toward the door.<\/p>\n

That was when his sleeve moved.<\/p>\n

And I saw the tattoo on his left wrist.<\/p>\n

A bluebird.<\/p>\n

Small.<\/p>\n

Faded.<\/p>\n

Its wings spread as though it were about to fly.<\/p>\n

My heart stopped.<\/p>\n

My mother had the exact same tattoo.<\/p>\n

Same wrist.<\/p>\n

Same size.<\/p>\n

Same bird.<\/p>\n

When I was little, I used to trace it with my finger.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does the bird mean, Mama?\u201d<\/p>\n

She always gave me the same answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a story for when you\u2019re older.\u201d<\/p>\n

I asked when I was eight.<\/p>\n

Fifteen.<\/p>\n

Twenty-three.<\/p>\n

She never told me.<\/p>\n

Then she became sick.<\/p>\n

And died.<\/p>\n

Apparently, I had never become \u201cold enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man reached for the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait.\u201d<\/p>\n

Everyone looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy chair is free.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brenda frowned.<\/p>\n

\u201cLucy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll cut his hair.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe can\u2019t pay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen the fifty dollars comes out of your paycheck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brenda stared at me.<\/p>\n

Then walked away.<\/p>\n

The old man approached my chair cautiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get it dirty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wipes clean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou really don\u2019t have to do this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease sit.\u201d<\/p>\n

He lowered himself onto the very edge of the chair.<\/p>\n

I fastened a black cape around his shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can call me Lucy.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at me through the mirror.<\/p>\n

Something changed in his expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cLucy,\u201d he repeated.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n

He hesitated.<\/p>\n

\u201cRay.\u201d<\/p>\n

I started working.<\/p>\n

His hair was tangled and badly matted.<\/p>\n

It took several minutes just to comb through.<\/p>\n

As I cut, I noticed Ray kept watching me in the mirror.<\/p>\n

Not in an uncomfortable way.<\/p>\n

More like someone studying an old photograph.<\/p>\n

And every few minutes, his eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n

I assumed he was emotional because someone was finally treating him kindly.<\/p>\n

But I couldn\u2019t stop thinking about the bluebird tattoo.<\/p>\n

I wanted to ask what it meant.<\/p>\n

Instead, I kept cutting.<\/p>\n

After a while, I tried to fill the silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mother used to cut my hair at our kitchen table.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray went still.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was terrible at it. My bangs were always crooked.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s probably why I became a stylist.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe used an old bedsheet as a cape.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd she always sang the same song.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray\u2019s chin started trembling.<\/p>\n

I continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomething about bluebirds.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes lifted toward mine in the mirror.<\/p>\n

Then tears rolled down his cheeks.<\/p>\n

\u201cOver the Rainbow,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

My scissors stopped.<\/p>\n

That was the song.<\/p>\n

Exactly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

I finished the last section of hair.<\/p>\n

Then suddenly Ray began crying.<\/p>\n

Not quietly.<\/p>\n

His whole body shook.<\/p>\n

I put down the scissors.<\/p>\n

\u201cRay?\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned toward me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother asked me never to contact you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room seemed to tilt.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I don\u2019t have much time left.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice cracked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I couldn\u2019t leave this world without seeing you once.\u201d<\/p>\n

I could barely breathe.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo we know each other?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray reached inside his jacket.<\/p>\n

His fingers shook as he pulled out an old yellowed envelope.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been looking for you for years.\u201d<\/p>\n

He held it toward me.<\/p>\n

On the front, written in faded blue ink, were words I recognized instantly.<\/p>\n

**For Lucy. When he\u2019s earned it.**<\/p>\n

It was my mother\u2019s handwriting.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\u201cWhere did you get this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe gave it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo months before she died.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stepped backward.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray lowered his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe came to see me at the correctional facility in Huntsville.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me she was dying.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice shook.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me about you. That you were funny. That you became a hairdresser.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat you had my hands.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart started pounding.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe gave me this envelope and told me I could find you only if I stayed clean.\u201d<\/p>\n

He swallowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been clean nine years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he looked directly at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you deserve to know who I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

At that moment, Brenda came out of her office.<\/p>\n

She saw Ray crying.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he bothering you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at Ray.<\/p>\n

At the bluebird tattoo.<\/p>\n

At my mother\u2019s envelope.<\/p>\n

Then I said something I never imagined I would say.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think he might be my father.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brenda went silent.<\/p>\n

Then, unexpectedly, she flipped the salon sign to CLOSED.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake all the time you need.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat down.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

So Ray did.<\/p>\n

He met my mother, June, when they were nineteen.<\/p>\n

She worked at a snow-cone stand in Galveston.<\/p>\n

He worked on a fishing boat.<\/p>\n

For three weeks, he bought a cherry snow cone every day because he was too shy to ask her out.<\/p>\n

Finally, she said,<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you going to keep buying snow cones, or are you going to ask my name?\u201d<\/p>\n

They were together for four years.<\/p>\n

On her twentieth birthday, they got matching bluebird tattoos.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy bluebirds?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Ray smiled faintly.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause of the song.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at the tattoo.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother said bluebirds were for people who would make it over the rainbow someday.\u201d<\/p>\n

His smile disappeared.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was the one who didn\u2019t make it.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Ray was twenty-two, he injured his back at work.<\/p>\n

He was prescribed pain medication.<\/p>\n

Then the prescription ended.<\/p>\n

His dependence didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

He started making worse choices.<\/p>\n

My mother became pregnant.<\/p>\n

She told him to get clean or leave.<\/p>\n

He tried.<\/p>\n

Again and again.<\/p>\n

But he kept relapsing.<\/p>\n

I was born in April.<\/p>\n

Ray was there.<\/p>\n

He held me.<\/p>\n

Promised he would change.<\/p>\n

Four months later, he robbed a convenience store.<\/p>\n

He was sentenced to fifteen years.<\/p>\n

My mother visited him once with me.<\/p>\n

Then she left.<\/p>\n

She told him she would raise me without him.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was right,\u201d Ray said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI would\u2019ve broken your heart over and over.\u201d<\/p>\n

After years in prison, Ray finally entered a serious recovery program.<\/p>\n

He got clean.<\/p>\n

Stayed clean.<\/p>\n

Then, shortly before my mother died, she found him.<\/p>\n

She visited him in prison.<\/p>\n

And gave him the envelope.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me, \u2018Lucy deserves to know where she came from. But only if you stay clean. Not for me. Not for her. For yourself.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray looked at the envelope in my lap.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me to wait five years after I got out.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you did?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI waited.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he raised his tattooed wrist.<\/p>\n

\u201cSome nights that envelope was the only thing keeping me from giving up.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice cracked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to earn it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I finally opened the envelope.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Inside was an old photograph.<\/p>\n

My mother.<\/p>\n

Young.<\/p>\n

Sitting in a hospital bed.<\/p>\n

Holding a newborn.<\/p>\n

Me.<\/p>\n

Beside her stood a young man with pale blue eyes, leaning down to kiss my head.<\/p>\n

Both wore hospital bracelets.<\/p>\n

And on their left wrists\u2014<\/p>\n

two bluebirds.<\/p>\n

Then I unfolded my mother\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n

She told me the truth.<\/p>\n

She explained why she had hidden Ray from me.<\/p>\n

She admitted she had been angry and afraid.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t want me waiting for a father who might never return.<\/p>\n

But she also wrote that when she saw him clean, sober, and taking responsibility, she saw part of the man she once loved.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t tell me to forgive him.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t tell me to accept him.<\/p>\n

She simply gave me a choice.<\/p>\n

And near the end, she wrote:<\/p>\n

**You were wanted by both of us.**<\/p>\n

That sentence broke me.<\/p>\n

I cried until I could barely breathe.<\/p>\n

Ray didn\u2019t touch me.<\/p>\n

He simply waited.<\/p>\n

When I finally looked up, he offered me a tissue.<\/p>\n

Then I asked,<\/p>\n

\u201cSo Mom says you cut my hair when I was four months old.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes widened.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said it was terrible.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time that night, Ray laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe wasn\u2019t lying. I cut one side way too short. You looked like a tiny monk.\u201d<\/p>\n

And somehow, I started laughing too.<\/p>\n

We sat there crying and laughing about a haircut that had happened twenty-nine years earlier.<\/p>\n

Before Ray left, Brenda returned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not docking your pay,\u201d she told me.<\/p>\n

Then she looked at Ray.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I owe you an apology.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray listened quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou came here asking for help,\u201d Brenda continued, \u201cand I treated you badly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she looked at his torn boots.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat size do you wear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEleven.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy husband wears eleven. I\u2019ll bring you a pair of work boots tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

The next morning, I picked Ray up at the shelter.<\/p>\n

Brenda had brought boots.<\/p>\n

A new shirt.<\/p>\n

A belt.<\/p>\n

And twenty dollars for lunch.<\/p>\n

Ray looked completely different after changing.<\/p>\n

Clean hair.<\/p>\n

Trimmed beard.<\/p>\n

Button-down shirt.<\/p>\n

Good boots.<\/p>\n

He looked like someone people might finally give a chance.<\/p>\n

I drove him to his interview at the community center.<\/p>\n

Forty minutes later, the director walked out with him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you his daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated.<\/p>\n

Then said,<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the first time I had said it aloud.<\/p>\n

The director smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour father told me everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

The prison.<\/p>\n

The drugs.<\/p>\n

The robbery.<\/p>\n

The shelter.<\/p>\n

No excuses.<\/p>\n

No blaming anyone else.<\/p>\n

Then he turned to Ray.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou start Monday.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray got the job.<\/p>\n

That afternoon, we ate cheeseburgers and drank milkshakes.<\/p>\n

For the first time, I started asking him ordinary questions.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Favorite movie.<\/p>\n

Favorite food.<\/p>\n

What my mother was like at nineteen.<\/p>\n

And he asked me about my life.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t instant forgiveness.<\/p>\n

Some days, I loved having him around.<\/p>\n

Other days, I was furious.<\/p>\n

I thought about everything he had missed.<\/p>\n

School dances.<\/p>\n

Birthdays.<\/p>\n

Graduation.<\/p>\n

Every moment my grandfather and mother had struggled while Ray was gone.<\/p>\n

One afternoon, I finally asked him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy did you choose drugs over us?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t defend himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no answer that makes it okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need it to be okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need it to be true.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray stared at his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt first, every time was a choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then his voice became quiet.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut eventually, it felt like falling through a floor that wasn\u2019t there anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t excuse anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he listed everything he had missed.<\/p>\n

My first steps.<\/p>\n

My first words.<\/p>\n

School.<\/p>\n

Graduation.<\/p>\n

Heartbreak.<\/p>\n

\u201cI missed all of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes filled.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he said,<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re allowed to be angry with me for the rest of my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

He paused.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll still show up every Sunday.\u201d<\/p>\n

I reached across the table and took his hand.<\/p>\n

The one with the bluebird tattoo.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen show up.\u201d<\/p>\n

And he did.<\/p>\n

Every Sunday.<\/p>\n

No matter how tired he became.<\/p>\n

Ray had serious heart problems caused by years of substance use.<\/p>\n

With medication and proper care, the doctors estimated maybe a year or two.<\/p>\n

I helped him get treatment.<\/p>\n

But I didn\u2019t pretend the past had disappeared.<\/p>\n

We simply started building whatever relationship we still had time for.<\/p>\n

Months later, Ray returned to the salon.<\/p>\n

This time he wore his community-center uniform.<\/p>\n

His name\u2014RAY\u2014was stitched over the pocket.<\/p>\n

He walked to the counter.<\/p>\n

Then placed fifty dollars in front of Brenda.<\/p>\n

\u201cI owe this salon for a haircut.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brenda shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t owe us anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pushed the money toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said I would pay.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to be someone who does what he says.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brenda finally accepted it.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaid in full.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ray turned toward me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Lucy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him across the salon.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the first time I called him that.<\/p>\n

His face crumpled.<\/p>\n

Then somehow lit up at the same time.<\/p>\n

That moment stayed with me forever.<\/p>\n

We got fourteen months together.<\/p>\n

Fourteen months from the night he walked into my salon.<\/p>\n

They became some of the most meaningful months of my life.<\/p>\n

We went to Galveston.<\/p>\n

Visited the seawall.<\/p>\n

The old snow-cone stand was gone.<\/p>\n

But we found another nearby.<\/p>\n

Ray bought me cherry.<\/p>\n

He ordered blue raspberry.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stuck out his bright blue tongue.<\/p>\n

I laughed until I dropped mine.<\/p>\n

Later that summer, I got a tattoo.<\/p>\n

A bluebird.<\/p>\n

Same wrist.<\/p>\n

Same size.<\/p>\n

Same design.<\/p>\n

When I showed Ray, he silently placed his faded bird beside mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo out of three,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

Ray died the following July.<\/p>\n

A week before, when he could barely leave his hospital bed, he asked me one last favor.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you cut my hair?\u201d<\/p>\n

I brought my scissors.<\/p>\n

My cape.<\/p>\n

My comb.<\/p>\n

I carefully trimmed his hair while he sat propped against the pillows.<\/p>\n

Halfway through, I began singing the song my mother used to sing.<\/p>\n

The one about bluebirds over the rainbow.<\/p>\n

Ray closed his eyes.<\/p>\n

Then quietly sang with me.<\/p>\n

When I finished, I held up the mirror.<\/p>\n

He studied himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerfect.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot one crooked piece.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

That was our last real conversation.<\/p>\n

After he died, I found the original dollar bill he had brought into the salon.<\/p>\n

Still folded into that tiny square.<\/p>\n

He had kept it the entire time.<\/p>\n

I framed it.<\/p>\n

It hangs beside my mirror at work.<\/p>\n

A year and a half later, I\u2019m still at the salon.<\/p>\n

But something changed after Ray.<\/p>\n

On the first Sunday of every month, we close to regular clients.<\/p>\n

Instead, we give free haircuts to people who need them.<\/p>\n

People from shelters.<\/p>\n

People looking for jobs.<\/p>\n

Veterans.<\/p>\n

Teenagers leaving foster care.<\/p>\n

Anyone who needs someone to look at them and see a person worth helping.<\/p>\n

We call it **Bluebird Sunday**.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a sign in the window with a bluebird painted on it.<\/p>\n

Underneath are the words:<\/p>\n

**EVERYBODY DESERVES TO LOOK LIKE SOMEBODY WORTH HIRING.**<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Recently, an older man walked in.<\/p>\n

Gray hair.<\/p>\n

Worn clothes.<\/p>\n

Unsure whether he was even welcome.<\/p>\n

He sat carefully in my chair.<\/p>\n

Then held out a dollar.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all I have.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cPut it away.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wrapped the cape around his shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cToday it\u2019s free.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the mirror, I could see the framed dollar from Ray.<\/p>\n

And on my wrist, the bluebird.<\/p>\n

My mother once believed bluebirds were for people who eventually made it over the rainbow.<\/p>\n

I used to think that meant some perfect ending far away.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t anymore.<\/p>\n

Sometimes the rainbow is simply this:<\/p>\n

A stranger standing in a doorway.<\/p>\n

A chair you choose to offer.<\/p>\n

Five minutes of kindness.<\/p>\n

Because sometimes the stranger who walks through your door really is just a stranger.<\/p>\n

And sometimes\u2014<\/p>\n

he\u2019s the father you never knew.<\/p>\n

You can\u2019t tell by looking at his shoes.<\/p>\n

So sometimes all you can do is say,<\/p>\n

\u201cMy chair\u2019s free.\u201d<\/p>\n

And see who sits down.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My shift was almost over when an old man walked into the salon. It was 6:52 p.m. Eight minutes until closing. I had no idea those eight minutes were about … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":36812,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-50131","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50131","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=50131"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50131\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":50132,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50131\/revisions\/50132"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/36812"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=50131"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=50131"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=50131"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}