There was never a day that went by in the many that we spent with my mom at the Mayo Clinic that someone did not make a comment about her beautiful finger nails. They were indeed a point of pride for her, and she was scrupulous in their upkeep, even going so far as to follow her nail technician to several commercial spaces, the last at least 20 minutes away, for 20 years.
And I might have feared the worst, were I not so committed to hoping for the best, when, a few days before her surgery instead of getting her nails repaired after a run in with her ice maker, she opted instead to have them restored to their natural state instead, no color, no filler, no tips. "It's probably for the best," she said. "It will just be easier."
One of the things I remember most about my my grandma was her bright red nail polish; her nails, too were always impeccable, and I think that was one reason why my mom took such good care of her own. As for me, family legend has it that when I was 6, my mom left me and my brother and sister with my dad for a long weekend in Paris with a cousin and her mother-in-law. (As an airline family in the 60s, that kind of thing was wildly possible, but we kids were little, so this trip was a first of its kind.) When she returned, all was well, but I had developed an terrible nail-biting habit, one I wouldn't break for over 52 years.
In fact, it has only been since my mother passed away in October that I have stopped biting my nails. And so today, instead of just a holiday pedicure, I splurged on a manicure, too, and the color I chose? Was the brightest red I could find! Heidi says it looks shocking, but I really like it, because now my hands look like my grandma's hands, and a little like my mom's hands, too.
And I might have feared the worst, were I not so committed to hoping for the best, when, a few days before her surgery instead of getting her nails repaired after a run in with her ice maker, she opted instead to have them restored to their natural state instead, no color, no filler, no tips. "It's probably for the best," she said. "It will just be easier."
One of the things I remember most about my my grandma was her bright red nail polish; her nails, too were always impeccable, and I think that was one reason why my mom took such good care of her own. As for me, family legend has it that when I was 6, my mom left me and my brother and sister with my dad for a long weekend in Paris with a cousin and her mother-in-law. (As an airline family in the 60s, that kind of thing was wildly possible, but we kids were little, so this trip was a first of its kind.) When she returned, all was well, but I had developed an terrible nail-biting habit, one I wouldn't break for over 52 years.
In fact, it has only been since my mother passed away in October that I have stopped biting my nails. And so today, instead of just a holiday pedicure, I splurged on a manicure, too, and the color I chose? Was the brightest red I could find! Heidi says it looks shocking, but I really like it, because now my hands look like my grandma's hands, and a little like my mom's hands, too.
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