Her Nails

Mom loved getting her nails done.

Not the pedicure part. She tolerated that. The tickling, the mild discomfort, the whole production of someone handling her feet — she put up with it because it came with the manicure.

And the manicure was worth it.

She was far more adventurous with color than I ever was. Seasonal themes, holiday colors, little details that most people her age wouldn't think twice about. At Christmas she went full Christmas — red and green, sparkle included, no apologies.

When we were in Boise, we started going to a salon where students did the work. Some people might have hesitated. Not mom. She loved it. She loved being around the young men and women, loved watching them learn, loved being someone they could practice on and be proud of.

She showed off their work like it was fine art.

Because to her, it was art.

Getting her nails done wasn't really about the nails. It was about the experience. The people. The little bit of joy that came from sitting down, being cared for, and walking out with something pretty to show the world.

That was very mom.

Find the joy. Show it off. Let others share in it.