8:25am Saturday morning.
I was a little early, standing outside of the barber shop at the mall, replying to some messages as I wait.
I hear a guy yell from somewhere…
“Mate, come on in! Grab a seat!” – it was Israel, who’s cut my hair a dozen times.
I walk through the half open doors, it’s warm, so I drop off my jacket.
There’s a sign saying “ten people in here, max!” And I can see every second chair is closed off…
I sit down.
While the mall itself still has the heavy energy as most of the stores are on reduced hours and frustrated with the restrictions, Israel is lit up.
There’s only a couple people allowed in here, but the vibe is on.
He smiles, he says:
“My man! It’s so good to see you. About time you came back for another trim, it’s too long!”
I laughed.
Is Israel lit up because I’m there?
Or, am I there, once again, because he chooses to be lit up?
