Dee and I went out for coffee Sunday and, as usual, conversation was lively. She was just home from vacation with her family, I’m preparing to take mine to Washington, DC, to say goodbye to my father-in-law. We stopped in at our favorite haunt in Charlotte, Central Coffee, and settled in at the outside table to enjoy the shade and unusual break from the omnipresent heat and humidity.
Words flew fast and furious, photos were shared, questions asked, while we got down to the nitty-gritty of life. That’s where things started to get interesting. By the end of the day we sat looking at each other questioning if we were indeed losing our minds, or if they’re already gone. After all, once you get to a certain age, the faculties start to decline. We’re not sure if ours have hopped a train heading west or are playing hide and seek.
Years ago, we made the promise that if either of us went to jail, we’d bail the other out or be sitting in said jail cell together. Now, Dee and I are Southern women and there is no way, no how, you’re going to catch us in a jail cell. That’s just not done. However, we’ve been dutifully hanging on to our bail money for years and will continue to keep it sitting in the bank where it earns a paltry sum of interest.
Friends, I ask you, when did we stop talking about sitting beside each other in a jail cell and start promising to make sure the other one goes to the good hospital, and that we’ll also pluck each others chin hair? That’s right, if either of us are in the hospital, or incapacitated in any way, shape or form, unable to perform basic self-care we wouldn’t normally share with the world, we’ll pluck each others rogue chin hair.
We’re bound “till death do we part” by wiry hair sprouting from our chins.
Trust me, if my eyes could roll any further into the back of my head, they would. Maybe it’s because I can’t believe I’m writing this. Maybe it’s because I can’t believe I’m old enough to have chin hair issues. Maybe I’m also a little paranoid — who knows when the Big Bad Wolf is going to come and blow my house down now that I’m talking about the hair on my chinny chin chin.
When did it come to this? I don’t know, but I do know that one day we’ll finally lose the last vestiges of our sanity, make a large withdrawal from the bank, and spend it on shoes with a price tag so silly we’ll need that ambulance ride to the good hospital.