butchiesmom

Today, I dreamed of high-heeled shoes,
Hopscotch, running and skipping.
Playing baseball on the road in front of the house,
Running under the grapevine in the back yard,
Riding a bicycle, walking it up the hills and riding it down.

Walking briskly in high-heeled shoes,
the sharp staccato sounds of the heels hitting the ground,
echoes bouncing off the walls of the hallway,
fooling people into thinking a much larger person is treading the floors
and astonishing them when they realize tiny me was the noise maker.

Strutting proudly in my first pair of “big girl shoes” and stumbling
As ankles rolled over the unaccustomed height and balance needs.
Remembering sandals with platform soles and missing the bottom step.
Mom heard my screams over the sound of the car engine she was warming.
Came running to find me there with an ankle rapidly swelling.
Wore them again after the swelling and pain went away.

Remembering all the pumps I once owned, how proudly I looked at them,
Knowing only big girls where pumps and thinking I need more shoes.
Watching the height of the pumps dwindle over time and then disappear completely.
Wearing flats isn’t too bad with a cane and work quite well with a walker,
but I would rather wear my high-heeled shoes.

Walking barefoot isn’t bad, no heels to turn ankles.