On a Friday at Sari Bari

 I lay in the corner over tea time, lounging with the ladies and they tell stories. And I soak up their presence. There is a deep familiarity in the air.

They joke about my future, and make up crazy futures for me.

There is a discussion about my hair, and how I shouldn't cut it (but I tell them that this week I was thinking about cutting it), and they tell me that I should not, under any circumstances, cut my hair. And then the threat – if you cut it, I will take scissors and cut it even more. And then, “oh please moshumi di, if you love us, don’t cut your hair. You will give us so much heart-ache if you cut your hair” and I just chuckle, cause I know 3 things:

1. They love me
2. They mean it, they will be sad if I cut my hair (they just want good things for me, even if what we define as “good things” differs slightly)
3. I can’t tell them I won’t cut my hair, cause I will…for real, I’ll probably do it in the next couple weeks, now that the weather has cooled down.

Plus…I know this is home.