Before choosing to cut the homeless man’s hair, I noticed something on his wrist that stopped me cold. I thought I was simply helping a man who needed a chance, only to realize that fate had brought us together.
The moment I saw the bluebird tattoo on his wrist, I almost dropped my scissors.
I’d seen that exact bird before.
Same faded blue ink. Same raised wings. Same tiny, crooked tail.
My mother had worn it on her wrist for as long as I could remember.
The homeless man sitting in my salon chair had walked in 10 minutes earlier with one dollar in his pocket and a job interview the following morning.
Now he was crying.
And I was starting to realize he hadn’t walked into our salon by accident.
***
My shift was almost over when he came in.
I was cleaning my station while my co-worker, Brittany, finished with a client two chairs over.
The older man stood near reception.
His clothes were old and dirty; his hair had grown past his collar, and one shoe was splitting at the sole.
Something about his face was gentle.
He had a kindness in his eyes that reminded me of my grandfather.
“I have a job interview tomorrow,” the man told our receptionist, Melissa. “I can pay a dollar today. Maybe the rest next week?”
He unfolded a dollar bill he’d been holding in his palm.
Melissa looked at it.
Then she looked at him. And then at his damaged shoes, especially the one with the split sole.
“A haircut is $50,” Melissa said. “You need to leave.”
Behind me, another stylist rolled her chair away.
His shoulders dropped.
“I could sweep up,” he offered. “Clean something. Whatever you need. Please. Nobody’s called me for an interview in months.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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