My last manicure/pedicure was sometime in January. I've been liking my new low-maintenance nails. No risk of chipping. No worries about peeling off labels that might damage my nails. And no 45-minutes spent each week waiting for polish to dry.
But warmer weather is coming, and with it, sandals. And since a manicure is only an incremental $5 with a pedicure, I might as well get both.
I like my toes painted, though I'm still not sure about my very short finger nails. I'd sort of gotten used to, and actually liked, the natural look.
On my way home, a young woman, big smile on her face, comes toward me, arms outstretched. "How are you?" she asks in a warm, I've-so-missed-you kind of way. She's dressed in workout gear, and seems genuinely happy to see me.
I have no idea who she is.
She is about to hug me and I'm smiling, standing there, ready to feel her embrace, with zero clue as to who she is. I do a quick mental search of people I know who live nearby. No one comes to mind. But I smile and play along.
Then she says, "Jane, how've you been? It's been ages!"
I'm filled with a relief. It's not a face I've forgotten; it's one I've never known.
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