I broke my ankle forty years ago—in November. About eight weeks later, I got married, walking down the aisle with a cast on my leg. It caused no problem for thirty or so years. But age and pounds and a desk job have made it talk to me a little more frequently. I moved to a new position at the university, working in academics now, instead of student accounts. The job I have now allows me to walk around much more, and I’m hoping to develop strength in that ankle. For now, however, I find that wearing heels that are higher than an inch makes me limp.
I completed my college degree and graduated in December 2011. For one class, I had to do a project on my heritage. We were to bring pictures and objects. For years (since high school), I had kept these wee velvet baby shoes that were my mother’s. I liked how they were made. I wondered, Were they typical for the day (1915 or so)? Were they “fancy” shoes?
I had to find some family photos for the project. Many of our family photos had ended up with my older brother, so I asked him to send some to me. I remembered a specific picture of my mother as a baby, so I asked him to locate it if possible.
Then came the discovery!
Was I aware of the connection in high school when I set aside the shoes for myself?
Had I failed to see it before?
Yes to both questions.
The little shoes I had kept safely tucked away in a box for more than forty years were the same ones Mother was wearing in the picture.
Isn’t that really lovely!