Vietnamese. Spanish. english. Put a blind guy in the middle of this language chaos and what do you get?
Pink nails, or so I’m told.
I am realizing that my wife is less and less able to care for her personal hygiene, from remembering to take showers to brushing her teeth. She has been meticulous about such things in the past, so I’m always surprised to discover such care is not happening. the remedy is usually a nudging, a gentle reminder, and she will spring into action, smiling. Yes, I am blessed most things are still easy.
But her nails are a different matter.
Up until now, she has done her own finger and toe nail care, cutting, filing, and painting them, an activity she has much enjoyed. However, she recently held out a hand to me and asked me to touch it. Doing so, I felt her nails and realized they were quite long, much longer than she usually kept them. It had probably been weeks since they’d been trimmed. Obviously, she wasn’t doing this herself anymore.
Off we went to the local nail salon. We walk by it often and greet the workers who sit outside lunching, all friendly and all Vietnamese. Upon entering, I explained that my wife needed a manicure and pedicure and pink was the preferred color for her nail polish. There was a response in strange words which I took as affirmative. then, I sat nearby as two young women babbled to my wife in Vietnamese and she babbled back in Spanish. I was quite content to keep my English out of the conversation, trusting my wife’s needs would be met as women seem to be able to understand each other no matter the language differences.
A short time later, she waved her hands gleefully in front of me and I, sensing they must now look beautiful, told her so, feeling good that, once more, we’ve successfully adapted to life’s continuing changes.
Yes, her nails are now likely pink, but I don’t really care, she’s happy. No, I was not tempted to have my own nails done. Blindness gives me a good excuse to avoid that. Besides, I don’t look good in pink, or so I’m told.
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