In her shoes

[lillibet]

Two years ago Mom was still with us and able to make the gravy, as she always has. Last year I couldn't face any of it, so we went out to a hotel buffet. This year I saw her everywhere--in the conversations she would have loved and the ones she would have hated, as I was cooking alone in the kitchen the way she so often ended up and I think may have actually preferred, as I made the gravy that I think may have been even better than hers. And it was only as I looked down at my feet, trying not to cry for the third or fourth time that day that I realized my metaphor was literal: these brown clogs were ones she wore often in the last years of her life. They fit me perfectly.

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