My collection of colors is quite modest.
It isn’t what it once was.
I circulate between three colors,
Poinsettia Red, Vermont green, and cloud white.
See, I don’t paint my nails as much as I did in years past.
I grew into a skin I hated
And grew out of my desire to flail visual art on my cuticles.
As my execution became neater and the mistakes became less
My self-hate became stronger
And no matter how strong I shook
I couldn’t tip over the bottle and pour myself out.
I painted my nails today.
I even wrote it into my schedule.
4:00 PM no earlier and absolutely no later.
I will admit my skills are quite rusty
And my trusty paper towel took the brunt of today’s work.
My hands shook with angst
Just look at my nails for the evidence.
Frustrated with the excess paint in the sides of my nail
I wiped away my work in progress
Reminding myself that some canvases can be cleaned.
I pressed on and on for an outcome that pleased me.
And after a handful of minutes, I questioned
Why I was applying such strenuous thought to a mindless task.
My drive to work hard seems to lack an off switch.
I painted my nails today.
I wiped my stress-induced tears, tied my hair back, let my shoulders relax
And I painted.
Each new stroke came with ease and effortless preciseness.
Every nail coated in the cloud white pigment
Erased the wrinkle in my forehead.
I painted my nails today
This may not be a big deal to you.
But for a moment
Just one moment,
I didn’t have to think about bills, work, my weight, or my future.
I didn’t have to think at all.
I just painted.
And now, with each new day
I can carry the remnants of that one moment of self-care and tranquility.