American Toes

Here are our American toes.

Four years ago in July, my sister visited me right after Independence Day, both America’s and my own.  My husband had just moved out of our house and I was feeling sad and confused.  A visit from my sister was exactly what I needed.

She arrived with lots of love, support, inspirational CDs (which actually helped quite a bit) and…laughter.  No one can make me laugh like my sister.  We just get onto a topic and get so goofy that it becomes an unending laugh-a-thon.  One of the reasons that my sister is so funny is that she has a sweet innocence about her that sometimes leads her into comical misunderstandings with people.

Since my ex was gone, she slept in my bed with me, and we reminisced about sharing a bed during our childhood vacations and how I would complain about her long, sharp toenails cutting into my legs.  I used to insist that she trim them before getting into bed.  So as we were lying there together, I jokingly asked her about her toenails.  She got all excited and said, you didn’t notice my beautiful toenails?

She proceeded to tell me the story of her Vietnamese pedicurist who arrived at her house (she does house calls) all excited to give my sis “American toes,” as she showed her the flags painted on her own feet.  It was the twilight of the Bush administration, and my sister was frankly a little horrified to put such a display on her body.  She said, oh no Linda, I am just not patriotic.  Well, patriotic wasn’t really part of Linda’s nascent English vocabulary, and she honestly couldn’t understand why someone would turn down such beautiful toes, so she stared at her blankly and continued to argue her point.  My sister tried again to say that she really just wasn’t that into America.  This poor woman, who risked her life to immigrate here to improve her family’s fortunes (her daughter recently got a scholarship to attend college), was mystified that her client would say that she didn’t like America.  What do you mean you no like America?  It is a great country and I give you such great toes.  At this point, my sister realized how ridiculous she sounded to this woman and that she wouldn’t be able to effectively explain the nuances of her objections to patriotic displays, so she gave in, but drew the line at the flags, just the red, white and blue.  Well, she had me rolling on the bed, crying with laughter at this story.

For three days or so, my sister and I laughed, talked and loved each other up, and by the time she left, I was a new person.  My house, which had been dominated in the recent months by drama, tension and conflicts, was once again filled with joy and light.  All of a sudden, I felt happy and optimistic about this new phase of life and was ready to accept the changes that it would bring.

Four years ago, my sister resisted her American toes and I resisted my divorce.  This year, Mindy excitedly proclaimed that we were all going to get patriotic pedicures with a friend and our two daughters.  It made me remember with fondness how important her visit four years ago had been, how she got me on the right track and set a wonderful tone for my new life as a divorcee.  I haven’t looked back since then, and, like her, have come to embrace something that I didn’t think I would enjoy.

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1. The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree