the haircut

After living in the same house for 25 years, Conrads children having been born and moving away from this house, he honestly felt as though everything that could be done here had been done. It was time to move. His neighbors had all expressed their disappointment in his leaving since they felt Conrad had been a caring and welcoming neighbor to them. There was an elderly woman across the street to which he had tried to be especially helpful. She was actually 102 years old and still living alone. Her children and grandchildren came to see her periodically, but Conrad was the one to whom she turned for her day-to-day assistance.

Her grandson, Eric, went occasionally to check on his grandmother, but not too often. Conrad had watched him grow from a spindly, gawky, little kid to a strapping young man. He was about twenty-two when Eric found out Conrad was leaving.

Years ago, when all his children were little, Conrad used to cut their hair. The parents of the children in the neighborhood were always impressed at how wonderful his children looked and so they would have Conrad cut their childrens hair as well. When Eric came to town, his grandmother would have Conrad cut his hair, too.

When Eric knocked on Conrads door, he had a sheepish grin on his face, a pair of sheers in his hand. "Hi, Conrad, I hear youre moving and I was wondering if I could get one more haircut before you go?"