Last night I painted my toe nails.
Three years ago today I flew to SLC to take care of my mom. During those two weeks I spent with her one of the things she asked me to do was to paint her toe nails. She felt unattractive and not very girly. Only one other time I my life do I remember her saying she did not feel girly, one time when we were broke and she could not afford to keep her hair as she liked it so she had cut it all off.
So we went to the store, I pushed her wheel chair around and we picked out a nice hot pink. Her favorite.
And then one of the last evenings I was there I painted her toe nails bright pink. She smiled.
For the last three years I have not painted any other nails. I’ve not even had my nails painted. I’ve just had no desire to. It felt like a bit of a block but I did not know why.
So last night as I sat and painted my toes that look just like hers I thought about it. And through the fog came this memory. The memory of painting my mom’s nails.
And I smiled.
