Red nail polish

2 days ago I got scared. Maybe everything isn't ok with my health. As the daughter of a breast cancer survivor and a granddaughter of my mom's mom who also had the disease, I've carried the thought of the resl possibility of getting the "C" since I was in my early 2o's. Something is wrong. We don't know what yet. The tests have to be done and the followup appointments have to be made. For probably the first time in my life, except when I had this irrational fear I would die while giving birth to my kids, I became scared for my health. The reality is this could be something small or..... something else. I got home from my appointment and there was my youngest daughter Corinne. 3 years old. I usually carry a mental to do list in my head and try to keep the kids occupied while I accomplish my "oh-so-important" tasks. But I paused and saw Corinne. Corinne's biggest joy in life is doing her nails. Putting nail polish on. I don't know where she gets that from since I haven't worn polish since my wedding and those fake nails fell off a week after the honeymoon! Corinne wanted to do her nails. She climbed on the counter and got down the bright red nail polish from the cabinet. And for the next half hour, with the TV off, we did our nails. Actually I did her nails and toe nails, but then she gave me a gift and said, "Mommy, you do your nails." And we did our nails. Suddenly, I wasn't scared anymore. I drank in the preciousness of that moment with my little girl whose whole world came down to bright red nail polish and her mommy. Her mommy who was finally present and calm and sitting down. Red nail polish. The recipe for courage to me.