My Barber

stmannstmann Posts: 58Member
My Barber

At the appointed time on the appointed day, my brothers and I went down to the barber.

Wise. Handsome. Tall. Athletic. Strong, yet with the gentle touch and dexterous hands of a surgeon.

To cut the hair on the far side of my head, he didn’t spin the stool, and he didn’t walk around the chair either. Rather, he snuggled my head over against his chest so he could reach over to the far side, Working from above.

I could hear his breathing. I could feel his breathing.

I could feel his heart.

When the whim struck, he blew away the loose hairs from my neck or face with a burst of his own breath.

Once finished, my barber would stand back, gaze proudly at his work, and then proclaim ‘not bad for an amateur!’

How the years went rushing by! Looking back past all those years, I wish my dad still cut my hair.

The glory of children is their father….

© 2014 - S.T.Mann, This story is offered
under Creative Commons license; it is
permissible to use the story as long
as an attribution bio is included.


  • tonygtonyg Posts: 10Member
    Awesome! My Dad never cut my hair...He was more of a "supervisor" to the Barber.
  • stmannstmann Posts: 58Member
    thanks tony!  hey, we might be a slightly different vintage....i mean when dad cut our hair, he CUT our hair!  and...regardless of barber or boss or general, are not ALL dads muy importante???
    thanks for taking the time!  grace and peace, friend....
  • nancyleelanenancyleelane Southern OregonPosts: 7Member
    Must be logged on
    Wonderful story. In so few words, you painted a picture of love and gave us a monumental message. Thanks for your well crafted prose.
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