Her name was Lanh. Her home was far from here.

She looked kind of fragile the first time I saw her. It wasn't that she did not look healthy. It was just how tiny she seemed to be. She had large brown eyes, and a reddish tint to her black hair, so long she would have to move it to keep from sitting on it.

I remember her hands, small yet strong with fingers far longer than her palms. The way she would massage my head and wash my hair was heavenly. It seemed odd to me to have my hair washed by someone else, and yet it made any stresses I might have had just vanish.

It started when I met her the first time. Almost as a joke, I asked her if she would cut my hair. It was an odd thing to say, though it was all I could think of. The beauty of her smile stopped my normal love of banter, and all I could say is would you cut my hair.

Sure she said, I will cut your hair. When she spoke, it was extremely hard to understand her English, her accent was so heavy. Yet every time I said sorry I don't understand, she just smiled and repeated until I got it, or at least said I did.

She called me Dave, and said it without hint of any accent. "So Dave, are you from around here?", she said barely able to keep from laughing aloud.

I had long since regained my composure, and would answer her with, "Not originally, I am from a little west of here."

The smiles they turned to laughter. "And Lanh, tell me. Where are you from?" I asked her. "I am from Saigon, now and originally", she said, in an accent that could only be understood with practice.

I remember asking about her family, and how they were doing. She said that she had recently visited her father, and that he had died just ten days after the visit.

Then I saw her not smiling for the first time ever. Only she did not look sad, rather she had a look of pride, and honor for the dead in her eyes. The smile was only gone for a brief moment.

"So Dave, are you from around here?"...."Yes, I am from around here now" was all I could say.