As I crossed the street, the details of the shop became clearer. The sun had made its way to the east and its rays bounced off the gold lettering on the barbershop’s window. Stay Gold glistened in the sunlight. The building itself is charming, brimming with character. An iconic, lighted barber’s pole sits a few feet below a gorgeous, stained glass window that stretches across the storefront. Two brick walls house succulents that sit on each side of the entrance with a black doormat. I twisted the golden doorknob and walked inside.

A man behind the counter greeted us as soon as we entered. (Fun fact: later I learned the owner built the counter himself. Small business grit.) The shop was buzzing with business. A good sign, I thought to myself. “Hey how’s it going? Do you guys have an appointment?” I became panicked. Crap, I needed an appointment? Suddenly the urge to bolt out the door flooded my mind, but I quickly realized how insane that would look. I apologized for not knowing I had to make one. (For your own edification, overly apologizing is a sign of trauma.) “No problem, let me see what I have available.” He was sweet, patient, and accommodating. “Can you come back at 4? I have an appointment available with XXXX.” I accepted it, thanked him, and left the shop.

We crossed to the other side of Harvard and visited one of my son’s favorite places, Boon Companion Toys. The toyshop is in a whimsical little corner of The Claremont Village. It is filled with unique, thought-provoking items that will inspire your child, keeping them entertained for hours. Since finding BCT, I have not shopped anywhere else. I take any opportunity I have to support small business. After looking at what seemed like everything in the store, my son finally settled on a stuffed Captain America. One of the many toys he would later come to possess from here. We have become regular patrons of the toyshop and know the owner well. He was a godsend this past Christmas. If you are looking for a way to support local small business and purchase one-of-a-kind gifts for children, I highly recommend this little treasure box. Did I mention they giftwrap? It is truly the Nordstrom of toy stores.

After leaving Boon, we made our way over to Pizza N Such. All of our exploring had created quite an appetite. Even though it was hot, my son and I chose to sit outside to enjoy the gorgeous summer day. Covid had allowed restaurants to have outdoor dining, something I wish the city would have kept even after the program ended. The server came and took our order: a glass of sauvignon blanc, two waters, apple juice, full Greek salad with chicken, and an order of French fries. This would later become the usual for our date nights. We sat and talked about all we had seen that day. Even though I was dying on the inside, I was still able to appreciate the magic of the day.

When I say I was dying, it was not because I missed my ex. Every time he left the house, I’d be waiting to receive a call that he’d been in an accident, arrested, or worse… dead. This may seem like an exaggerated response to his absence, but the hell he had put us through gave my brain no other choice than to mull over these kinds of thoughts and fears. I found myself trying to figure out different scenarios, in preparation in case I had to explain any of these to my son. Living in this way was horrendous. A silent hell I had endured for years. You see, I had already received phone calls of this nature. He had crashed his work truck, two cars, and had been arrested multiple times. What would the next phone call bring? I block out those images as much as I can, but I can only do that for so long.

We finished our meal, paid the check, and headed out. With a few minutes to kill we decided to pay a visit to the local ice cream shop, Bert & Rocky’s Cream Co. My son had his favorite ice cream, cookies and cream, and I had the watermelon sherbet, a welcome treat on this hot July day. Watching my son smile and laugh as he inhaled his ice cream made my heart content. It was grounding in many ways. My world may be falling apart at home, but my little boy was happy in this moment nonetheless. When you’re enduring hell, all you have are the moments in between. I clung to these as much as I could.

After finishing our ice cream we made our way back to Harvard Ave. We walked back to the barbershop and headed inside. Since the sun was blaring, the shades had been pulled over Stay Gold’s windows. (Little did I know these would be the same shades that would fall as I slammed the door almost two years later. Oops sorry boys.) The air conditioning felt good against our sweaty skin. “You’re back”, said the man behind the counter. I smiled and we sat down on the bench, waiting for my son to be called up.

As we waited, the owner of the barbershop introduced himself. He is caring, kind, and hardworking. He knows every single client that walks through his door, qualities and characteristics that take a small business from good to great. “XXXXX?” said a voice. My son stood up and walked over to the man that would become his forever barber. As I sat and waited I couldn’t help notice what an amazing space this barbershop was. Old posters from classic movies, such as The Godfather, Casino, Jackie Brown, and many others decorated the walls. Pinup girls, Laker, and Dodger pictures were abounding. Numerous homages to vintage cars, and other eclectic pieces could be found all over. I loved all of it.

Before coming to Stay Gold, I had my reservations about being around men. My sexual assaults had robbed me of my peace and replaced it with a hypersensitive fear that only comes after one experiences a life-altering trauma. Even though I was around a group of men I didn’t know, something about the atmosphere was calming. Everyone was joking, smiling, and enjoying their time in the chair. You could see the camaraderie amongst the other barbers as well. Something felt familiar even though I had never been here before, but what was it? I couldn’t put my finger on it; all I could do was feel it. The energy in between these walls was electric, positive, and uplifting. It was exactly what my nerves had been craving, to feel safe. That’s what it was. I felt safe, safer than I had in a long, long time.

I continued to wait for my son to be done and sat in gratitude for this unlikely sanctuary. Who would have thought a barbershop would be the next chapter in my healing?

Just as PTSD creeps up out of nowhere, so does the repairing of old wounds…

This is where I pause for now.

XOXO