I think I'm becoming a schizophrenic blogger...today is a sad day. I was so happy because during the week one of my student's moms told me that Perla was coming to Dublin with us in August. I went to her house today, and her mom said she won't be coming because she opened a big mouth. Perla ALWAYS opens a big mouth. I cried, literally started crying right then and there. Then, Perla's mom started crying and we had a huge cryfest. I'm hoping the fact that I resorted to tears helps the situation...*smile*
So, to get over my
mood, Perla and I read this poem by Shel Silverstein (love him!):
I remember I put on my socks,
I remember I put on my shoes,
I remember I put on my tie
That was painted
In beautiful purples and blues.
I remember I put on my coat,
To look perfectly grand at the dance,
Yet I feel there is something
I may have forgot-
What is it? What is it?...
Then, I kind of recovered until I went to Val's blog and read this:
A New Pair of Shoes-a Mother's Day story
I thought it would be a good time to share this story with you with the holiday around the corner. It's about the time I got a new pair of shoes. Now I've worn many shoes over the years but these were no ordinary shoes. In fact, I had wanted a pair of them for years but the circumstances were never right for me to make such an investment.
My own mother had a pair and had worn them for years before I decided I wanted some just like those one day. I knew they had to be comfortable. Why I had watched her march around in those shoes all day, cooking, shopping, she did everything in those shoes. Sometimes I'd watch...waiting for her to take them off so I could sneak in her closet...slip them on my small feet so I could wear them, hoping that one day they would fit me. I finally realized when I got older that these shoes were custom made. You couldn't really put on someone else's, you had to have your own pair or they may never have that perfect fit.
I patiently waited year after year until it was time to get fitted for my own shoes. Oh how they measured me up and down and all around...but they told me that I'd have to wait a few months before I could pick them up. I wanted to just wear them home that day but I understood the importance of waiting. I wanted them to be perfect! I wanted to be so proud to wear these shoes, that everyday I would always pick that pair. I wanted them to last forever like my mother's pair seemed to. I planned to take good care of them because a pair of shoes that takes that long to make couldn't be replaced easily, and besides...no refunds or exchanges on these.
Somedays as I waited for my shoes to be customized to that perfect look, that perfect size, that perfect fit...I would walk around the house pretending they were on my feet. My husband would find me in front of the mirror...just hoping I would be able to wear them as well as my mother wore hers. We'd sit around wondering what the finished product would look like. I hoped my husband like them, and I hope he liked me in them!!
I woke one morning and the wait was nearly over. My shoes were now ready. As we got into the car, my husband and I talked about anything to keep my nervous mind off the shoes. Truth be known, I wasn't sure I was ready for them. What if I put them on and they don't fit? What if they aren't as comfortable as mother made them look?
We finally arrived and we went in and waited, and waited and waited some more! I thought they were ready. I had just about given up on getting the shoes that day when I saw someone bringing me a package. Was that my shoes? The package was smaller than expected and when I peeked inside, they didn't look exactly like I had imagined all these years...but they were beautiful, and all mine! The lady who had so carefully wrapped my shoes tried to point out a few mistakes the shoemaker had made.
Although I could see the "imperfections" I knew that the shoemaker never makes mistakes. They were customized shoes remember, made to fit me. So what if they ended up even more special. After marveling in the fine craftsmanship I suddenly realized why they took so long to make. It wasn't the shoes I was waiting on exactly, rather my feet to fill them. Just like alot of shoes, they were tight at first. I had to break them in but my mother was there to guide me, pretty soon they were the perfect fit.
I guess anyone can get a pair of these shoes afterall but not everyone's fit this good. I've slid my feet inside these shoes everyday since...just like my mother always wore hers. They are my "Mommy Shoes". All of our shoes get scuffed from time to time but it's the "soul" that's most important.
*I got emotional*
Then, I saw this:
Quite a writer that Val!
And you know what they say..."If the shoe fits..."