Fable – Fiction – Fairytale: Gardening Shoes

I kept her gardening shoes right where she left them; there was no reason to move them, not now.

They were small shoes with tired heels. The laces were tattered and torn, hanging on to the leather like bull riders hoping for eight seconds. And although many feet would fit inside, none could replace those which left their mark on the dirtied soles.

And so I left them in the rain, watching the storm make playgrounds out of shoes that carried me to countless sandlots and swing sets. They were no more shoes than any other pair, but they were hers, and that makes them something so much more.

I know she won’t be back for them anytime soon, but they’ll be at the backdoor if she needs a moment of peace in her gardening shoes.

A moment for which I would sacrifice my own shoes.

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