It’s not like I was with him for a long time but the lifestyle of living just above struggling I thought I had achieved…for good. Starting fresh in a new place, a version of me that I had hoped would last. Prior to him I did okay. Some years were better than others. I made ends meet, barely, but always had enough for whatever I needed. I just didn’t need that much. With Pete* it was the illusion of having just a little more, a $20 pedicure every payday did not seem too extravagant. A $20 pair of shoes, no questions asked. It wasn’t by any stretch unlimited, but it did take me just above par, just above survival. Pedicures and sunshine. I was happy.
I haven’t had a pedicure in 4 months. I gave those up when I moved to Virginia. I knew I’d have to have a new routine, a familiar routine, one that included the word lack. Lack of funds to be specific. Also lack of a reason to be ready for summer at all times. It was okay, I don’t have ugly feet, and honestly I didn’t want reminders of what I had walked away from. I’d settled back in to lack and shoes, not a new experience for me.
Mom treated me and my sister to pedicures for Christmas. I was anxious in anticipation of our appointment, nervous about allowing myself to relive those memories. I felt at home back in the massage chair, feet in the tub, slightly too cold, but my nail technician made up for it with an excellent foot rub and hot stone massage. I closed my eyes and held back tears, not very successfully, not before a few came streaming down my cheeks, quite a few. In the last two years, prior to moving to Virginia, I had gotten 50 or more pedicures. It was a way of life for me, a small indulgence, for date nights, for peace-of-mind time, a necessity of Florida living, a joke of my extravagance shared with Peter. So many emotions attached to those pedicures.
My sister couldn’t understand why I would get my toes painted when no one would see my nails here in the middle of winter. She doesn’t understand the ritual, the muscle memory of that experience, of a time and a person I used to be.
When we walked out of the salon I noticed an unusual siting of seagulls in the parking lot. With the sun on my face, I paused, closed my eyes and briefly allowed myself to remember finally florida.
xoxoxoxo
*Pete(r) is a fictional character.
For you, a pedicure was an “essential” in Florida. Your ritual, as you say. Funny how we all have our “essentials” as Sophie Kinsella lists in “diary of a shopaholic,” book one. For you in Florida it was a pedicure. For me it has been ‘Butter’ chardonnay. Reminds me of those things we ALWAYS buy at the grocery store, thinking we need them on hand – for some it’s english muffins, others it’s organic tomato pieces or pinto beans, only to notice when we put away groceries, that we already have quite a few. No matter, we’ll need them again.
Just like the feelings we get when we have a pedicure or a glass of wine. We’ll need them again. All essential. Love your blog, Lynn Pinn and the imagery as well!
Thank you sista!! Luv you xoxoxo