Manicure.

It was summer

Maybe August

Sitting on a mall bench

Goosebumps reactive to the ever-present air conditioning

I had no sweater

Though you warned me to bring one

And my stomach rumbled.

My 10-year-old eyes

10-year-old logic

Could not fathom

sitting still for 45 plus minutes

Of pampering.

I had been watching you

From the bench

Your feet firmly planted underneath the desk

As the nail tech used her drill

Buffed your nails

Clipped your cuticles

Shaped your nails into squares

Soaked your fingers

repeat

repeat

repeat

repeat.

You were at ease.

You were a pond

long after ripples have subsided.

still.

You were ocean waves

crashing and then back away from the shore.

I saw your transformation happen gradually over an hour.

You were at ease.

At peace.

You

never without a manicure.

A signal that

At some point

You were at ease

At peace

in the world.

December 2018

I peered over your lifeless body

wondering

“Is her soul really gone?”

You looked as if you were sleeping.

I took your hand

The cold sending shock

through my whole body.

It was true.

“Goodbye, Aunt Emel”.

I said.

Laying your hand back down on your stomach

My eyes found

A manicure.

Your soul is at ease.

At peace.