I snatched the brown heels off the thrift store shelf, excited. Brand name, almost new, and my size. I slipped them on and they fit perfectly. What a find! Mom, I figured, would be impressed.
She worked in our local Goodwill as a grader, sorting through donated clothes, shoes and books, deciding what could go on the racks and what could not. She never accepted anything that she wouldn’t purchase herself—only quality items—and she kept everything organized. Regulars in Mom’s shoe department rivaled the stores in the mall! Still, the two of us often checked out the “competition,” thrift stores like this one. I rushed to her side to show off my discovery.
“You like those?” Mom asked. “They’re so chunky and ugly!”
“Well I beg to differ,” I said.
On our way out, the checkout girl admired my purchase. “I love those,” she said, “Are there any more?” I told her there weren’t. Mom just rolled her eyes.
The brown heels became something of a joke between Mom and me. Whenever I wore them she’d make a face and say, “What are you going to do when those shoes wear out?”
“I’ll just have a shoemaker make me a new pair,” I teased. “Or I’ll just put a request in the wind and they will appear!”
The shoes lasted, defying their advancing age. But for Mom, age and illness took its toll. Eventually, Mom was admitted to a hospice home. In the last month of her life, she became childlike and despondent. I worried that the mom I knew was already gone. Then, on one visit, my cousin complimented me on my brown heels. I looked at Mom, wondering if she’d remember. Mom rolled her eyes—and we both laughed.
Two weeks after Mom passed away, I was in deep mourning. I couldn’t go near the Goodwill store without crying. I visited my Dad’s house and sat on the back porch, staring at my feet. My brown heels had finally started to come apart, split at the seams. Just as well, I thought.
My sister came onto the porch holding a shopping bag. “Where were you?’ I asked.
“The Goodwill store,” my sister answered. “The place isn’t the same without Mom. You wouldn’t believe what I found mixed in with the books.”
“What?” I asked.
My sister handed me the bag. I looked inside.
A pair of brown heels. The brown heels. Chunky, ugly, and exactly my size.
