Often times our most valuable moments in life make no sense to others. I often forget the details of “big” events, others remember me being involved in, while vividly recalling happenings that few can even conjure up. The moments that mean the most don’t need to be reported on the eyewitness news because they are on the DVR of our mind’s eye.
After a two-week span, that included a former player being murdered and my college coach’s dad passing away (among other things), I was able to find therapy in doing something I’ve dreamed about, for some time. I did something that would never be mentioned by Dick Vitale, but extremely vital to who I am. Something that will never show up on a stat sheet but helps ensure my last name doesn’t show up on a rap sheet. I took my son to the barbershop for his first haircut.
As he sat in the chair, like a seasoned veteran, a generation of feelings of disappointment fell away like some of his curls (which his mom made me save; Tairia wasn’t allowed on this rite of passage). Watching him “look down”, as Shaw (the barber) instructed, allowed me to look back and heal the wounds of my father not being there when Shaw’s mom used to cut my hair (talk about the circle of life). As Jayce examined his new look in the mirror, beaming with the pride of being a “big boy”, I was able to bask in the nostalgia of being a little boy again.
Jayce’s freshly tapered neck, lined by Shaw’s clippers, served as a reminder for me to always stay in line with him. It was also representative of the new line of expectations for Flowers men, moving forward. Recently there have been several reminders that things, including life, can be taken away at anytime. The last two weeks have allowed me to recognize that memories are less about what and more about who. My son will soon forget what kind of hair cut he got but he won’t forget who was there…and neither will I.