Tales from the Shoe #1

The Toddler’s Shoes

As Told by the Old Woman

The Toddler’s Shoes

There was a baby I once cared for, and for the long life of me; I cannot, throw away her shoes

Not shoes really, but wee rubber sandals, that held her tiny small steps, and her big Angel happiness

I see her still; unsteady, stumbling, but oh so joyful and I hear her glee and the patter of her tiny footfall forever, eternally, imprinting on my heart

The Old Woman said I Could Tell

I once imagined that The Old Woman who Lived in the Shoe was a type of foster carer, for all the lost children and foundlings of storybooks, fairytales, and nursery rhymes. I wrote her so.

And now, with the Old Woman’s permission (I asked her this afternoon when she dropped off some lemons); I thought I might share some of her stories occasionally. I’m calling these small stories, ‘Tales from the Shoe’.

Now keep in mind, they will always, just be little stories. Just snippets of memories, because… old. (She knows I don't drink tea, and still brings me lemons ‘for the teapot’).

Her name is Anna by the way.

Dedication: For ‘shoe-families’ everywhere 💛

A Few of Shout-Outs,

Because nothing imagined, comes into being, alone. There is a universe of contribution, but it's always nice if you can pinpoint and acknowledge a particular source of inspiration. (And besides; Anna told me to.)

To me, William J Spirdione’s hometown looks like a storybook town. And his pictures of winter, are (to someone in Aus), right out of a fairytale. This is one of my favorite posts of his, showing his beautiful hometown:

And also, a thank you, to Jonah Lightwhale, who first told me of ‘shoe-families’ — Not a child’s natural fit, but serves to keep the child from being barefoot (without family) amongst the stones of the world. As someone who has much to do with shoe-families (foster care and kinship care households), I loved that saying.

And keeping with the theme of childlings, this is one of my favorite pieces of Jonah’s, about a teenie spaceship who is separated from the mother ship:

And I’d also like to mention someone who can tell you of a life lived like Anna’s, firsthand. Katie Michaelson’s short Mother’s Day piece is a glimpse into that beautiful life:

Thank you, beautiful reader. And if you know any shoe-families (or their agencies), be sure to leave some lemons by their door.

This was my original piece about Anna: