My husband isn’t afraid of fingernail polish. We have a nail salon set up in our bathroom every two weeks. My daughter opens the bathroom cabinets and gathers the nail polish remover, cotton balls, and a couple of bottles of nail polish. She sits on the ledge of our bathroom tub and her father, yes, folks, her father paints her nails. He paints with a quiet focused diligence and she smiles in a perfect grin.
She shows her nails to anyone who is paying attention. The usual question is “Oh, those are pretty. Who painted your nails?” She replies with exuberance, “My Daddy.” Most people correct her and say “No, honey, I think your Mommy painted your nails.” She says with emphasis, “No. Daddy painted them.” People turn to me and I say she’s right, her Daddy did paint her nails.
It is funny that this will be their moment. She doesn’t know it yet, but I do. Witnessing their moment triggered my own memories of my father. My father didn’t paint my fingernails, but as a little girl he would always take me to putt-putt golf. He would help me pick out my putt-putt club and we would play the course for two hours. I suspect he didn’t enjoy it as much as me, but I know now that was his special moment with me. Anytime I pass by a putt-putt golf course, I think of my father and smile.
These specific ordinary moments in time brings us the most comfort. I suspect that my own daughter, when she is older, will also look at the fingernail polish bottle and also think of all those times her Daddy painted her nails.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
The smile in this photo tells it all! What a great family moment.
That is not me. I do not know who this stranger is!!
But it is cute….
I love it, she will definately remember it when she is all grown up.
Thanks for making me smile : )))
Father/daughter memories are the best… mine would be Saturday morning cartoons. 🙂
touching and sweet. I know what you mean about those little moments. those are the ones that will be remembered. Like my grandpa – he can be summed up in one of those Brach’s orange slice candies.
Funny, Carsten is in charge of giving the manis and pedis around here to our girls. Although we haven’t ventured into the nail polish yet. Watch out! Cadence will be all about that, I’m sure!
My favorite entry as of yet. I’m sure Dad’s looking down and smiling at Nanu and Jijo.
Here’s to Dad and his ‘putt-putt’ moments with us. Miss you Dad.
-Radhi
I’m wiping away tears! My fond memories with my father are of making bullets and going to the firing range. Strange I know, but he was a police officer and that’s what we did on his time off. Bullets were expensive so we’d go to the range and find old bullet cases, take them home, shine them up and make new bullets. The next week he’d take me with him, put headphone/earmuffs on me and he’d target practice. Hadn’t thought about that in a long time, thanks Rudri! 🙂