She Painted My Nails Blue!

I was thirteen when I was introduced to atrocious coloured nail polish. Even today when I think of blue, black and green coloured nails, I think of her.

My mother thought it was a ridiculous idea, but she thought it was cool for me to wear sky blue nail paint during my summer break.

Sometimes, she randomly comes into my thoughts through the few things I have come to associate with her - nail polish, swim suits, ceramic jewellery, the colour yellow and big smiles. 

I still remember when I first met her - The first of my parents ‘young’ friends. Someone, who considered us kiddos a part of the conversation. When she and her husband came for dinner, we could hang around post 8pm and talk of the world, travels, books and English language. 

I saw them build a family. They seemed closer to me (in age and in thinking) different from the typical uncles and aunts we knew. I looked forward to them visiting us after their visits to far off lands; I knew there would be stories and gifts for me. 

She was there when Snoopy died. I sat with snoopy in my arms and she sat next to me, silently. 

She shaped my life to what it is today. The decision to take that step, to move out into the world was taken after a conversation I had with her, one I remember so clearly.

I moved out, life happened and I forgot about her. She became one of mom’s friends. The last memory I have of her is her clapping, smiling and dancing at a wedding. 

I think of that wedding day often and wonder why I didn't have another real conversation with her. 

One day months later, I got a call that she left us, just like that. 

I am sitting at home today doing absolutely nothing and suddenly at supersonic speed something random connects me to a memory of her.

I love how our brain functions to connect scattered dots from anywhere to exactly where we are meant to be at a certain point.  

When people leave this world, they just go. 

At times I wonder what happens to them. How everything one builds in life vanishes in a single second, a single breath. What is left is memory. And memory, fades. 
But sometimes, out of nowhere it comes alive and that one thought, that one memory triggers something inside that stirs your soul.

I know somewhere deep in my heart that she watches me even today. She sees me falling, getting bruised, getting back up and then falling again. She sees me confused, wondering about where I am and where I could be. 
I know she’s here and even though she is not physically around to make the ceramic jewellery she promised to make for me, she smiles that big smile as I think of it. 

Dear LA, I miss you when I need someone to tell me, that it will all make sense sooner or later. 

And I really hope it does.