I never wear open-toed sandals. I think my toes are ugly and my feet are too big. So when I happened upon this pair of brown, leather sandals with bronzed buttons up the center in my bedroom, I ignored them. I kicked them into my closet, thinking they were left there by my sister who had just been visiting from out-of-town. She would wear that kind of sandal, because she had beautiful toes. (She should, she gets them professionally done twice a month! ). I figured I would give them back to her when she made a return visit later in the month.
A few weeks later, when I was getting dressed for a night out with my husband for dinner and a concert, I came across those sandals again. I actually picked them up and looked at them. They were larger than my sister’s feet. She wears a size 8, and I wear a size 11. Bigger sister, bigger feet, go figure. They were appealing foot wear. Whomever the owner was that had left them in my bedroom.
I sat down on the bed, and just for the heck of it, I slid them on my feet. Wah-La, they fit! They fit so perfectly that it was like they were made for my feet. Did I have a secret Fairy- Shoe Mother who dropped the perfect sandal into my bedroom? This was so weird. I looked at them on my feet in the mirror. It was like magic, because my toes looked beautiful in these shoes. They looked sexy and young. I made up my mind. I was wearing them.
My husband took me to dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant. When we walked into the joint, I spied other women looking me up and down in that judgemental way that us women look at other women. In the past, I would have checked my clothes to make sure that I didn’t have a button glaringly open or a stain on my blouse. However, that night, I didn’t believe they were looking at anything but my shoes. I know they were admiring my feet and my magic sandals, just wishing that they, too, had a pair.
After the Mongolian beef arrived, my husband commented on how beautiful I looked. I was waiting for him, with bated breath, to comment on my shoes. He didn’t disappoint me. I knew there was a good reason why I had married him.
“Did you buy a new pair of sandals for tonight?” he asked. “They are really sexy.”
“No, “ I said and smiled at him. “I found them in our bedroom.”
He looked confused. “Excuse me? You found them in our bedroom?”
I explained the story of how I found the sandals. And ended with the statement, “Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers.”
“Did you ask our daughter if they were hers?” he wanted to know.
I had not thought about them possibly being my daughter’s. She was the only other person I knew who wore size 11 shoes. I scoured my mind and tried to remember her wearing the sandals. I could not recall. However, the seed my husband placed in my head was starting to grow.
With dinner over and the check paid, my husband and I headed to the concert. Once more, people were looking at my delicious sandals and smiling. I felt like Cinderella at the ball, and I vowed that I would never give up these sandals. They were made for my feet.
The following morning, my daughter and grandson came over for a visit. As I was telling her all about dinner and the concert, I went to my closet and grabbed the sandals. My face fell as hers lit up.
“Oh, mom, you found my sandals! I was looking for those everywhere.”
She tried to take them from me, but I whipped them quickly behind my back.
“No! You cannot have them. They are magic and they make my feet look sexy. Even Dad said so.”
My daughter blew out a breath and exclaimed, “But they are mine!”
My eyes began welling up with tears. This happens to women when they are old and they cannot have their way. Consequently, my daughter, being the fine young lady that I raised her to be, proceeded to tell me that I could go and buy my own pair of “sexy” sandals at Target. Defeated, I handed over the sandals and went to the bathroom to wash my face.
While I was in the bathroom, I heard her talking on her cell phone. All I could hear was, “They’re mine.” and “Oh, all right, dad.”. I collected myself and went out into the kitchen. My daughter, scowl on her face, told me to try on the sandals for her. I put them on and another tear at the loss of these dear shoes slid down my face.
“Mom.” My daughter said quietly, “Those sandals look really sexy on your feet.”
I looked up at her unbelievably. “Really?”
She smiled. “Really. You can have them.” She hugged me.
I kissed her.
“They look too old-fashioned for me, anyway.” She kissed me back.
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