Yesterday my mother remembered something about me.
It was so trivial, but since she remembers virtually nothing about my childhood, this almost made me cry. My sister, Mom, and I were all sitting in Mom's living room chatting...which mostly consists of my sister and I talking and Mom occasionally asking questions. I mentioned I finally bought some nail polish remover, and was going to repaint my toenails with a nail polish I had won as a door prize at a bridal shower. My mom looked at me and asked what color the nail polish was. I said, "It's a kind of blue..." She looked at me and said, "But you don't like the color blue."
No I do not. She remembered that. My eyes filled with tears. Such a small thing. A small, almost inconsequential part of who I am. But she remembered it. She remembered it.
In my defense, the nail polish was more of a seafoam green...and kind of ugly!
