The same woman polished my nails for the past two years. Since I now live two and a half hours away from her shop, it was time for a change. More specifically, I needed a new location that could fulfill my articulate ideas and creative designs. I tested the waters shortly after that. Contrary to popular belief, I did not request for French tips or intricate details. Rather, I selected a simple color, red.
This choice may seem obvious. After all, it is football season, an OU holiday in itself. Likewise, red is the perfect transition color from summer to fall. While I am not opposed to these statements, they were not floating in my original thought process. Instead, I was drawn to this scarlet hue with unexpected logic.
When I was a little girl, my mother consistently had a fresh manicure. Coral was her choice in the spring and summer, while a cherry tint called her name in the fall and winter. The latter shade correlates with her character: my comforter scratching my back, my protector holding my hand as I fell asleep, my role model of fierce femininity. She would fight for me even if it meant breaking her acrylics, and her devotion has formed my morals.
Moving away from my mom has not been an unchallenging feat. I had never gone longer than a day without her before college. However, the knotted connection with our mothers never comes undone, and it is a bond almost impossible to fracture. She carried me then, and she still does 155 miles away. Ultimately, she is why I brush my hair before greeting anyone in the morning and why I would rather be late than leave my house without jewelry. My mother is the reason I have red nails. They make me feel at home.
