Last Saturday, I did something I have not done in years... I painted my finger nails! Now, to just anyone having painted fingernails is not a big deal at all. But for me, it is.
From way back, as far as I can first remember Aunt Lib always had her finger nails painted. Even in her sickest days, her daughters would paint her nails... She just would not have anyone see her without her nails done! When I was a little girl sometimes she would give me a manicure. Those were the best times. I felt like I was getting the royal treatment!
Probably a year or so before she left us, she grabbed my hand and flipped it palm side up. She put her hand next to mine and pointed out that we had the same crooked pinkie finger. And we sure did! She said, "You and I are the only ones in the family with this crooked pinkie. But that just means we're something really special, Katie Boo."
As I get older, it becomes more and more noticable how similar my hands are to my Aunt Lib's. I remember, as a child, watching her hands on the stirring wheel. Now I look at mine on the stirring wheel and they look just like hers.
I think I have subconsciously not painted my finger nails, because of the memories it would bring back of my Aunt Lib. Now that I have painted them, I don't think I'll ever stop painting them. The memories my painted nails brought back are good ones; ones I'd like to keep around. I can't wait until you are old enough to start painting your nails so I can tell you this story. And I'm anxious to see if you have our crooked pinkie too! You're my heart, little one.
