Toes
Every time I go over to my parent's house next door, which is a minimum of 4-5 times a week, I look at my dad's feet. His circulation is starting to not be as effective as it used to be, so I have gotten into the habit of looking down to make sure the blood isn't pooling in his lower extremities. You often hear me say, "Dad your feet are turning blue, put them up to help your circulation." While doing these feet checks, I have noticed that his toe nails have gotten longer and longer. I have secretly been waiting for my sister to notice them and maybe she would cut them, but she lives far away doesn't make it to this side of town often.
Yesterday, I could not pretend I didn't see it any more. I mentioned how long they were and asked who cut them last time. I knew it was my sister but as his memory was going, he said the nail salon. He said he can't reach his feet anymore and pointed to the clippers sitting next to his row of medications on a nearby stand.
I gave myself an internal pep talk and grabbed a paper towel and the clippers.
As I clipped the first nail I thought "this isn't so bad." As a clipped the second nail, a memory rushed back to me as a little girl with my Dad clipping my nails. By the third nail, the safety that I felt as that little girl in that moment washed through me. I continued my work toe by toe and by the end of all 10 toes, I was so thankful to have the opportunity to do that for him.
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