I'll miss you.I'll miss you." I hoped my voice sounded as normal as I tried for it to sound. "Sure you will. You won't find anyone up there to cut your hair as well as I do." I forgot about remaining cool. Instead, I blurted out, "Can I write or call you, Stacy?" I felt like I was 12 years old again, asking a girl out for my first date. "Brian, look at me." Our eyes locked in the mirror. She was standing behind me with a wistful almost-smile on her face. "Brian, you're going away to college and you're scared, but you're going to be fine. In a week you'll have hundreds of new friends and at least a dozen new girlfriends. Trust me." I knew then that it wasn't the time to push, so I backed off, "Oh, sure. You're right. I'm just afraid I'll go into some hair salon up there and walk out looking like a Marine recruit." I forced a weak chuckle and let the subject drop. Embarrassed at my futile attempt to express my feelings to Stacy, I waited in the car while she cut my dad's hair. He walked out with the best haircut he'd ever had and got in the car telling me Stacy wished me good luck at school. At home, we jumped in the truck and I went away to college. Stacy was right. I do love college. I don't have to work all that hard to get decent grades. I made great friends and we all pledged the same Fraternity -- and all of us got in. And the girls? Well, the girls are great. "Lack-of-nookie" is not a problem on campus. I stayed in touch with dad over the phone, but I was busy enough that I wasn't planning to get home until Thanksgiving. |