I’m sitting in a black vinyl covered swivel chair at Carnegie Hair place, Carnegie, of course.
Sophia is combing my hair into sections with the pointy metal end of a tail comb. She is singling out the strands, painting them with a cool paste and swaddling each bundle into a tight foil wrap.
The foils stand upright on my head, and flap about like pages of an open book when I move. An oversized pink clip holds the conglomeration of foils together, crowning the pitch of my silver tiara. The alarm is set.
I sit still for an hour, and try to put some order to my thoughts and words.
Sophia is four weeks away from giving birth to her firstborn. A son to be named Dimitri.
Dimma for short, I posit.
No, definitely not, his full name only. No nicknames.
The hum of the hair dryer in the background along with Sophia’s methodic process is softening my mind into a billowy state of sleepiness.
I fight the urge to drift into a complete non-compos oblivion, devoid of all weight, hope and expectation.
Danny, the barber, walks past me. He hands me the free Tiger mask from todays Herald-Sun. Good Luck Kate, Good Luck for Saturday. He feels the weight. He feels the pressure. He feels good.
Footy finals have overtaken my usual day to day routine with emails, ticketing and barracking, all requiring attention.
Last week I went to mass. I thought it might be peaceful. Inside the church sat a school full of young kids decked out in their footy gear. The Gospel was read by one of the Dusty’s, whilst prayers of the faithful were delivered by one each of the Hodgey’s, Rooeys and Dangers.
Toby and Cotch took up the gifts in the offertory procession.
And the choir sang, Do you believe….Yes Lord I do believe, they retorted.
It was a curious, joyful sight…and strangely peaceful.
The foil alarm sounds and I am suddenly alert. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My head is reclined backwards into the basin and adorned with a crown of purple suds. Tepid water streams over me and trickles down my neck washing the purple suds away.
In some ways I have been out of sorts, a bit distracted, a bit displaced and feeling just a little bit mad; in a good way, though.
I think of all the things I have to do for Saturday and I am reminded..Richmond…..Richmond is in the Grand Final, this Saturday and how mad is that?
Feeling coiffed and refreshed, I wish Sophia all the best with the arrival of the young
Dimma , sorry, Dimitri and I tell her that I hope he has a wonderful life in this world.
Because, Dimitri’s world could well be just more than a little bit madder than mine.
Let it be.