My hair has been straight for years. Yesterday, my niece did my hair. She curled it. It looked lovely. Gave the a va-va-voom stride in my step. I did my make up and wore a dark burgundy lip stick for that thick lipped look.
I was very happy with the result. It made me feel better about myself. Simply because I did it for me. Not for anyone else. I just needed a change.
My person told me that my hair looked nice. A young man who I look at as a son figure and talk to him as such walked up and said “Hello Gorgeous!!! You really do look beautiful today.” Then today, one of my much younger co-workers told me that I looked really nice today. That made me feel good. You like to hear that from time to time. You may never tell anyone, for fear that you might sound vain and maybe you are to a degree. Everyone needs to hear from time to time that they look nice.
I did notice one thing, with my hair curly again after so many years, I look very much like my mom. I am okay with that. I think my mom is beautiful.
I had also cut my nails off and painted them red the night before my hair done. What I noticed about those, they looked like my maternal grandmothers. I remember looking at her red nail polish as a child. She died when I was 10 years old.
I remember looking at her red nail polish that was peeling where those hands worked so hard to keep the home and farm they had going while my grandfather worked in a local factory.
My hands now look like I remember my grandmothers, that makes since, I am 48 and she died at 55. So I have grandmas hands.
As if not to be outdone, I walked into my home this afternoon, the same house that my paternal grandmother lived in. The same house that she died in. It was built for her after my grandfather died. I semi-jokingly call it the widows house.
Anyway, I walked in today and I caught her smell. There are times when I feel her near me and I smell her. That smell that I identify with grandma. Maybe I just needed to be reminded that even though two of these three women are gone, they are still a part of me. They are still near me.
My mom, she is there for me at all times and now when she needs me more, I want to be there for what she needs.
It’s funny the things you notice and those things you admire about those women whose genes have shaped who you are today.