In Lieu of Purple Shoes
I may have posted this before I am not sure but today I wanted it here just for the memories I keep that started on August 29th 1980 at 3:48pm, 6lbs and 10 ounces and the words, It is a girl.
*My daughter and I have been at an impass for the last few weeks. I felt she broke a confidence and I called her on it. Her last words to me were “well is that is what you want mom…fine” then the phone went dead. If anyone can hold a grudge she can, she gets that from her father. He once held one for 8 years and then at the most opportune moment let me know about it. So I know she comes by that through genetics. I could not let a birthday go by even if she was angry without at least a small token of a gift. I wrote this and printed it out for her along with this really cool ceramic cat that was all abstractly painted every color in the world. I hope she reads this and understands what I really think and feel. She is and always will be my most beautiful creation.*
If you bring up memories rarely am I able to pull them from the recesses where I put them so many years ago. Perhaps it is just part of growing old, perhaps this inability is part of the scramble my brain felt the day it ceased to run. I lost so many things back then, never to be found again.
I look at my daughter and I remember the important things. We smile at each other the knowing smiles that only a mother and her daughter can share.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
She had that sweet voice of innocent concern and the eyes, big greenish brown with lashes that went on for miles. She knew, the instinct was there, without teaching she knew just when to bat them at you for the most positive effect. Stubborn as the day was long, she carried the mantra of still waters running deep on her tiny shoulders, pulling out the effects for all to see only when it would suit her.
Determined is another description that will follow her home. No one could tell her she couldn’t do, wouldn’t or shouldn’t do what she did. She took her fate into her own hands and surpassed all expectations. I always felt I lacked what it took to help my beautiful child was marked silently for struggle with every word.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
I can hear her small voice as if it were just yesterday. With all seriousness she asked and with all seriousness I answered. I didn’t realize at the time just how important those shoes would become, a bonding moment between us, mother and daughter strong.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
The shoes are gone, but I can recall them in my memory. I let them get away. I lost them in a move; one of the many I have faced in the past few years. I lost them at a time where nothing mattered any longer. I misplaced them, like I misplaced my mind and now they are gone. Today I see them in my mind’s eye enough to draw them out, pencil in the shadows and give them the pale violet hue she adored. I have searched the shelves at many a store in hopes of finding their closest match. I have scoured the isles of thrift stores hoping to catch a glimpse of the purple treasure that is long lost. I have planned out strategies based on their find and hoped by some miracle they would wander back home.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
My daughter, my love I have no purple shoes to give. But I give you this in lieu of them.
This day I give you more than purple shoes.
I give you wishes of a Happy Birthday filled with all the hopes and dreams that you could carry in your arms.
I love you my most beautiful artistic creation.
Love to You this day,
Mom
*My daughter and I have been at an impass for the last few weeks. I felt she broke a confidence and I called her on it. Her last words to me were “well is that is what you want mom…fine” then the phone went dead. If anyone can hold a grudge she can, she gets that from her father. He once held one for 8 years and then at the most opportune moment let me know about it. So I know she comes by that through genetics. I could not let a birthday go by even if she was angry without at least a small token of a gift. I wrote this and printed it out for her along with this really cool ceramic cat that was all abstractly painted every color in the world. I hope she reads this and understands what I really think and feel. She is and always will be my most beautiful creation.*
If you bring up memories rarely am I able to pull them from the recesses where I put them so many years ago. Perhaps it is just part of growing old, perhaps this inability is part of the scramble my brain felt the day it ceased to run. I lost so many things back then, never to be found again.
I look at my daughter and I remember the important things. We smile at each other the knowing smiles that only a mother and her daughter can share.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
She had that sweet voice of innocent concern and the eyes, big greenish brown with lashes that went on for miles. She knew, the instinct was there, without teaching she knew just when to bat them at you for the most positive effect. Stubborn as the day was long, she carried the mantra of still waters running deep on her tiny shoulders, pulling out the effects for all to see only when it would suit her.
Determined is another description that will follow her home. No one could tell her she couldn’t do, wouldn’t or shouldn’t do what she did. She took her fate into her own hands and surpassed all expectations. I always felt I lacked what it took to help my beautiful child was marked silently for struggle with every word.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
I can hear her small voice as if it were just yesterday. With all seriousness she asked and with all seriousness I answered. I didn’t realize at the time just how important those shoes would become, a bonding moment between us, mother and daughter strong.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
The shoes are gone, but I can recall them in my memory. I let them get away. I lost them in a move; one of the many I have faced in the past few years. I lost them at a time where nothing mattered any longer. I misplaced them, like I misplaced my mind and now they are gone. Today I see them in my mind’s eye enough to draw them out, pencil in the shadows and give them the pale violet hue she adored. I have searched the shelves at many a store in hopes of finding their closest match. I have scoured the isles of thrift stores hoping to catch a glimpse of the purple treasure that is long lost. I have planned out strategies based on their find and hoped by some miracle they would wander back home.
Mom, when you die can I have your purple shoes?
My daughter, my love I have no purple shoes to give. But I give you this in lieu of them.
This day I give you more than purple shoes.
I give you wishes of a Happy Birthday filled with all the hopes and dreams that you could carry in your arms.
I love you my most beautiful artistic creation.
Love to You this day,
Mom