Putting On A Show

My mother gave me a pair of her shoes

It was raining and cold outside on an April morning

And I had worn flip flops

“You never did check the weather..” she said, rummaging through her closet


She is not allowed to comment on my behaviors

Tittering to herself like she knew me at all anymore.


She doted on me that night like I was her only child

Which was ironic only in the cruelest sense.


They were leather bottomed and fine

A nice rugged pair of flats

There were two tears in the front of each shoe, the sole peeling back from the shell

‘they’re good shoes, leather too. Just glue them back and they’ll be just fine to wear on a day out”

I never planned on fixing them, but any shoes that would keep me from falling was just fine.


I wore them home

Splashed in the puddles of a torrential downpour like I was 7

And mucked them up quite well.

I took my train home, and slept silently with cold wet little feet


I dreamt of a mom who loved me all my life like she did tonight

A mom who would have taken my cold feet without a word

Rub them until they were warm

and put little fuzzy patterned socks over them.

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