Hand in Hand

I cut my nails tonight. I filed them. Stared at my new bottle of Craving Coral nail polish. I couldn't open it. It wasn't right. It's not my color. 

I miss my grandma's hands tonight; their pinkish colored flesh, their always freshly moisturized feel when they touched mine, their manicured nails, their warmth. 

I miss the way she held my hand in those moments when life was frustrating or seemingly beyond repair. 

I miss the way she let me sit right next to her. Hip to hip. My head on her shoulder. Hand in hand.