My clients and I were strolling today through the seaside village I am working in. The sky was blue, the bay was sparkling, and the brightly colored fall leaves of the trees gathered on the sidewalks and streets under the sunshine. It was a beautiful, crisp fall day in the Pacific Northwest.
Standing in it's strength as the new heart of the community, the building I designed a year ago (the Blaine Bank Building, which was recently completed) was the focus of our conversation. A breeze picked up and an unusual image just to the side of my face caught my eye.
I thought for a minute that maybe it was, well, I didn't know what it was. But a minute or two into the observation I realized it was a gray hair. A long one.
This was odd for me. I don't color my hair and as stressful as my life can sometimes be, I haven't started to gray. Or I thought I hadn't. But this strand of hair was gray. And it was really LONG. Which means it's been growing for awhile. Or maybe the whole cotton picking strand just lost it's color all at once. I don't know.
Anyway, I was so stunned that I pulled the hair out and began to express my sentiments of shock to my clients. There was a moment of silence and with laughter in his voice Brad said, "Jean (his wife, who has just undergone treatment for breast cancer) used to complain about gray hair. Until she didn't have any hair. Now she's just glad to have any at all, no matter what color it is."
Thank you Brad.
Keep things in perspective.
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