Contemplation on Eyebrows and Such

I had my eyebrows waxed recently by a young cosmetology student at the salon academy.  I'd never met her before that morning.  I was about to let her cut my hair, so I thought, what the heck, let's do the brows too.  What's the worst that could happen?

Her name is Haley, and she sported an expertly coiffed and sprayed halo of blond hair.  My usual gal was sick, and the second they'd arranged for me was also absent, hence Haley.  There's something to be said for showing up.  After describing how I wanted my hair cut and razored, Haley walked me back to the washing sinks and said we'd do my eyebrows before we went back for the hair cutting portion of the show.

I have dark, full eyebrows, and I like them, so it takes faith and trust to give your eyebrows to a cosmetology student you've never met.  I explained that I like them and just wanted them cleaned up and shaped.  I wish I had something hilarious to relate, but I don't.  Neither is there anything horrible about what happened.  It was pleasantly painful in the way that only eyebrow waxing can be.  I enjoy it.   It's a very present moment experience for me.  The wax is warm and sticky.  I concentrate on breathing smoothly in and out.  I concentrate on not flicking my eyeballs around under my lids and looking like I've entered full-on REM sleep.
All the while she's waxing I'm also thinking about my daddy.

My father is nearly 70 now and needed to have eyelid lift surgery to help him see better.  There was concern about the procedure because he has large, protruding eyes.  Shortening the lid too much would result in him not being able to close his eyelid fully.  The complications are serious.  He was scared about having it done but knew he really needed it. 

The photos of him afterward were terrible.  He was bloody, stitched, puffy, red, yellow and blue, eyes swollen nearly shut.  It took weeks to heal, but he did.  They did not take too much out of him, and he is able to blink completely.  However, the surgeon did not get them even, so his left eye is more open than his right.  He knows it and says he doesn't care.  It's a little hard to get used to seeing him.  I think it will take me awhile, and I feel bad for him, but I'd never say so.  His vision is better, and that's the most important thing.

I think how often I take for granted how much I have to trust total strangers and have faith that they'll do OK by me and by others.  It's a bit alarming and a lot amazing.