Nail polish reminds me of Seattle, my second home. Unscrewing a bottle of brick-red nail polish, the smell of permanent markers and wax bubble balloons hits my nose.

It reminds me of old wood and the home-y smell of Blakeley apartments.

It reminds me of Sie-ce’s bedroom high up in her house in what looks like the attic with bottles of nail polish strewn across her floor. There were all sorts of shades- purple, magenta, gold, blue, green, silver… It reminds me of the rain pounding lightly on the glass of her sun roof and of Esther and of nail polish remover. Sie-ce had a pen that oozed white nail polish (or so it seemed) and we had fun drawing and doodling and writing on our already polished nails.

It reminds me of Nan and her pretty sparkly pink nail polish settled on a plate on her soft bed with a warm blanket. She had a deep purple color that I liked- Amy Pond. It reminded me of the 8 dollar Avengers we saw together in a small theater with a small crowd. We were disappointed that we didn't have the whole theater to ourselves. We went on a long bus ride to get there and back while I admired the cute pink sparkles by the light of the sun that streamed onto my black lace skirt.

It reminds me of Simone and her sister and her bottles of nail polish and the fake nails her sister painted on to check the color of the polish. Painting her toe nails as well as her hand nails, she occasionally looked up to watch the Barbie film we dared ourselves to watch and to make slight conversation with me. It was late, and the stillness of her house was only broken by sounds of bubbly, cheery music from her TV. Her concentration was on her nails.

It reminds me of Amanda and concert night and a mug of water and the frustration of trying to make marble nail art. The nail polish kept sinking to the bottom of her mug as the coolness of her floor seeped into my legs. It reminds me of guitar chords strumming softly while we abandoned the mug of water and painted our nails. It reminds me of how we checked the time, scrambled to straighten our hair, only to realize that our nail polish had melted afterwards.

It reminded me of the same question they all asked me:

“Aren't you going to paint your nails?”