The year is 1997.

The cool, crisp air is blowing through a small crack in the hospital window.
Family gathers around the new mother as she asks:
“How long do I have to wait to paint her toes?”

Time passes and it is now 2001.
I am a four-year-old pampered princess.
Though my blonde hair and blue eyes do not match my mothers,
My nails and toes do.
We are best friends who spend more time at the beauty salon than we do at home.

A few months pass and it is now November.
I help my dad carry out a bag nearly my size into our old, beat-up, mini van.
He straps me into my booster seat,
And our 8 ½ hour journey and our lifetime tradition begins.

Here, there is a boy.
Brown hair, light eyes.
He looks innocent, but to me, he is rebellious.
As he begins to play out front,
I run to my dad in panic.
“He’s in the street! Isn’t he gonna get hurt?”
He chuckles and says,
“Honey, things are different in Ohio.”

A few years go by, it is now 2008.
Though my nails are still manicured and my toes freshly done,
I do not care in Ohio.
The light-eyed boy is my best friend.
We climb trees, build forts, and explore together.
He takes me to meet his friends,
We share a blow-up mattress on the living room floor,
And we call the same sweet old lady “Grandma.”
We are inseparable.
Not even 500 miles could do the trick.

Back home, I am a preppy, pampered, girly-girl.
In Ohio, I am a tom-boy.
I do not care about my toe polish chipping,
Or my acrylic nails breaking.
I am a different, free-flowing spirit.
All I care about is who drank the last Ski pop
And when dinner is ready.
As long I am with family,
I am happy.

It is now 2015.
The innocent boy is now nearly a man.
He introduces his girlfriend to our family at dinner,
He tells me his plan for after graduation,
And we share separate blow-up mattresses on the living room floor.
Our once innocent, naive, eyes now tell stories of pain and lessons learned.
But his eyes still glow,
And my nails are still painted.
And we still call the same sweet old lady “Grandma.”