Leaning In

The blow dryer loudly whirred in a back-and-forth motion near my ear, making it difficult to hear the conversation taking place at the salon chair next to me. The look on the client’s face was one of concern as her stylist, Gina, spoke in hushed tones. When the dryer cut off, I overheard Gina tell her client that she was losing hope and worried her husband might not make it. She instinctively put her hand on her round tummy. Her baby would be here soon. Deep in thought, I was startled when Angie spun my chair away from Gina’s direction and began snipping with adept precision, adding layers to my fine hair. She was chattering on about her recent camping trip with her new boyfriend. I toss in an occasional “uh huh” and “wow” while trying to tune out her excited ramblings and learn more about what was happening with Gina. I am not normally the nosy type but the worried tone in her voice drew me in. She should be excited about the baby and looking forward to walks in the park with her husband but instead, she was scared he might not be around to see the baby make it to kindergarten. Angie finished styling my hair with a blast of hair spray and brushed off the clippings from around my face. I would not get to learn how Gina’s story ended. What if her husband doesn’t make it?

Over the next week, busy with preparations for Thanksgiving dinner, I could not get the worried look on Gina’s face out of my head. I had to find out more. I checked the salon website to get Gina’s last name. Soloman. It did not take long to find Gina Soloman of Whitesburg on Facebook. Most of her posts were not made public but a quick search of her friends lead to whom I presumed to be her mother-in-law, Betsy. Betsy had lots of shared posts with uplifting quotes of encouragement. Scrolling past pictures of baked goods and recipes, I came across an announcement, “A little pumpkin is on the way!”. Betsy was expecting her first grandchild soon. She was obviously over-the-moon. I smiled at the thought of Betsy being a grandma. Her beaming round face and stylish brunette pixie, likely at Gina’s skilled hands, smiled back at me. Her eyes were smiling too, and I felt like I knew her. Scrolling through the comments, I find her friend Louise is sending prayers for Dan to find a kidney soon and asks how dialysis is going. My heart goes out to Dan. My search didn’t yield any additional information and my need to learn more was growing. It really was a need. I had to know more. Should I just ask Gina directly? That felt so intrusive. It’s not like I actually know her, even though she had worked next to Angie’s station for the two years I had been going there. Normally, I don’t even pay attention to the other people in the salon. I usually chat casually with Angie and then head on my way. I begin to feel stalky. Am I going too far with this? I mean, what would knowing more matter? It is a sad story, but what can I do?

Thoughts of Gina and Dan and their growing family continued to nag at me as my dad and I gathered at the dinner table with my older brother and his family for a traditional Thanksgiving meal, prepared this year by my brother’s wife, Erica. After a delicious dinner, quiet conversation evolved into a spirited but good-natured discussion between my dad and his daughter-in-law, who he adored, over competing football teams. It was good to hear my dad laugh again. I volunteered to clean up the kitchen and then headed out back to play with my 5 and 8 year old nieces, Beth and Cora, and their energetic sheep-a-doodle, Stormi. They engaged in an improbable two-person game of Mother-May-I, something my mom taught them, that generally requires at least 3 people to play. I stepped in as “Mother” as they performed various steps and pirouettes to see who could reach the end first. Beth was quirky and cute and had a flair for the dramatic. She was currently in a knock-knock joke phase but was not particularly good at it. “Knock-knock,” she said, standing straight and tall with an impish grin in anticipation of what was coming next. “Who’s there?” I would ask. “Table!” she exclaimed. Wondering where this was going, I obliged, “Table who?” “Table on the floor!” and slapped her knee as she burst out laughing. So corny. Cora was our beautiful daydreamer. She asked the ‘whys’ and filled in the blanks with happy ideals. She radiated positivity. They are my heart.

 With a full belly and play time that included a re-enactment of a sword fight for the hand of princess Buttercup, I fell into bed exhausted, yet my mind would not stop racing. I decided to look at Gina’s Facebook page again. She has pinned a post asking her friends and family to please share. Dan needs a kidney. Soon. She details who to contact to see if one might be a match and gives an honest and thorough description of what donating a kidney would entail. She even lists the surgeon’s name, who is highly respected in her field, to give reassurance the donor will be in skilled hands. I turn my phone off, close my eyes, and try to sleep.

Dreams of doodles playing football wake me up. Feeling groggy and confused at first, I try to clear my eyes enough to make out the clock on the wall. 9:32 AM. The sun is shining through the nearly closed slats of the blinds in my bedroom.  A late start for me but with no plans for today, it doesn’t really matter. I used to go shopping with my mom on Black Friday. I hated the crowds and always grumbled but mom loved it. She never complained about standing in long lines or dealing with grouchy people. She loved the hunt for a bargain and practically cackled when she found one. Mom noticed things other people would overlook and had a knack for taking irredeemable junk and morphing it into a desirable piece of furniture, décor or even art. Mom was surprisingly funny. The kind of funny that you didn’t see coming – a quick wit and mischievous grin that hinted at the complexity of her thoughts and hid the depth of her worries. We lost mom a year and a half ago. She bravely fought breast cancer for the better part of 2021. She never lost her sparkle or her faith. If she was in pain or afraid, and I am sure she was, she never showed it. She was declared cancer free after chemo, radiation and surgery.  Six months later, the headaches started. Three weeks after that, she was gone.

Maybe that was what was driving me to do something. Something to make sure the baby Gina was about to bring into this world would not lose a parent, before even getting a chance to know him. Clicking on the Learn More tab from Gina’s post, I entered the requested data, and I waited. I knew in my heart I would be a match. I made it through the first set of qualifiers. This was soon followed by a physical exam, a psychological evaluation and lots of tests. I had not shared any of this with my family for fear they would try to talk me out of it. I felt mom’s presence and knew she was cheering me on. Her gift for finding beauty where others saw no hope, gave me a sense of certainty that I was doing the right thing.

On a rainy Friday afternoon, my phone rang. A gentle voice on the other end asked if I was Sara. Dan tearfully gave me the news as squeals of delight from Gina and Betsy broke through.

Today, Abigail Sara Solomon begins kindergarten. Her mom and dad hold her hand tightly as they walk her to her classroom. As her honorary Aunt, I am in charge of taking lots of pictures. Beth and Cora have taught Abby how to play games their grandmother taught them. Thanksgiving dinner conversations are filled with banter between Dan, my brother and dad. Gina keeps us laughing at the gossip her clients so freely share. Betsy and I have become very close. She has taught me how to make her famous pumpkin churro cookies. And I have taught her the art of bargain hunting on Black Friday with grumpy people and long lines.