She was a married adult. Why was my daughter still living in my basement?

Yaffa: Don’t you realize that this favor is no big deal to you, but means the world to me?

Leah: You’re a married adult. Why would you assume we’d be able to do this forever?

Yaffa

I guess it really started because of my big sisters. I’m the youngest of eight, six girls and two boys, and my favorite game as a little girl was experimenting with my big sisters’ hair accessories, makeup, and nail polish.

By the time I finished seminary, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: open up my own beauty salon. I could do what I loved all day long, and make money from it — what could be better?

My parents were supportive, though training as a cosmetician was a bit unusual in our circles as far as career choices go. All my classmates were going for speech or OT or graphic design, while I was enrolling in beauty academies and spending a fortune on equipment. But I took to it like a pro — I guess my sisters trained me well — and before long, I was ready to advertise.

At first, I did home visits, which worked well for things like simchah makeup. Eventually, though, I felt ready to do more — nails, skin care , the whole package — but for that to happen, I needed my own place. But a storefront lease would be expensive, super expensive, and I was still paying off loans for the equipment.

What about the basement? I thought. The basement had a laundry room and storage space, as well as a large guest room with an en suite bathroom, which was the room I wanted to use. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen when we had guests; we had four empty bedrooms upstairs too. And best of all, the basement had its own entrance — right next to the guest room door. Perfect for my clients’ privacy and comfort.

My parents were fine with the plan, and I threw myself into designing a beautiful, inviting space: redecorating, hanging up pictures and my logo, putting up acrylic shelving and sleek white furniture. The beds went into the large storage area at the back of the basement, leaving ample space for everything I needed. I invested in fresh curtains and a sound system to pipe soft music through the room, and the results were amazing.

“It’s as if the room was made for this,” Ma said when I brought her down to see it. “Lots of hatzlachah here, Yaffi.”

I smiled. My first visiting client was scheduled for that very afternoon. And I hoped that once she saw it, there would be many more.

Baruch Hashem, there were. Customers began streaming in. I’d get up in the morning, daven and eat something, and rush right down to the basement, where I was booked solid from 10 a.m. till 6 p.m. Sometime in the middle of the day, Ma would give a tap on the door and leave me a sandwich or some salad for lunch. It was an added perk of working from home.

But the biggest advantage, of course, was the fact that I could work rent-free. I was finally making a profit, but I reinvested a lot of it in new equipment, more advertising, and eventually hiring and paying a part-time assistant. Things were good, great even. And then they got even better, when at 25, I finally got engaged. Ma was over the moon. Finally, her youngest child was getting married! I worked until a few days before the wedding, and hit the stores every evening, checking things off my list and setting up our little dollhouse of an apartment.

It was obvious to me that I’d continue working from my parents’ house. Our little apartment barely had living space for us; I couldn’t possibly set up shop or see clients there. Besides, the basement salon was large, centrally located, and running successfully. My parents didn’t need the room, and I had my own entrance. It was a perfect setup.