Grandma’s Sneakers–Friday Fictioneers, 9/20/17


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My grandmother’s afternoons were written on her shoes––insides rubbed to fine parchment, once shiny trim worn down to dull cowhide, shoelaces loosened for easy ingress and escape, tongues swollen, vamps dusted from her habitual circling of gravel streets in search of treasures. Her pockets told the rest of the story–discarded Cracker Jack prizes, severed limbs of dolls, lost marbles, toy soldiers, single jacks separated from their families. Lined one slightly ahead of the other as though she had just stepped out of them, they told her last story that morning they carried her from her house without them.


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50 thoughts on “Grandma’s Sneakers–Friday Fictioneers, 9/20/17

    1. lifelessons Post author

      All of the canning jars full of these prizes that my grandmother lined up in her basement were bulldozed under when she died and my father donated the land her house was on to the town to build a hospital on. I think of them often, actually, since I make collage art. I rescued only two of them–a tiny pink dog and a a white elephant–charm-sized. And her button hook and eyeglasses, shards of a quilt, but not her tennis shoes,which were actually blue canvas. What memories these photos dredge up.

      Liked by 4 people

      1. thejuicenut

        Haha, that is so funny, you would reasonably think that wouldn’t you, but it is the other way round! I am leaving everything I’ve written to my son who keeps everything and I’ve warned him he’ll need to build an extension 😄 My daughter once took advantage of my being bedridden and cleared out a cupboard here, throwing out her brother’s childhood teddy bears! I didn’t inow what she’d put in the bin until she left and I crawled downstairs to look, because I know what she’s like. Of course I rescued them 😉


  1. granonine

    I really like this. I didn’t grow up in an era in which everyone had dozens of pairs of shoes, and it’s still hard for me to toss out a worn out pair. I can Identify with these shoes, left behind when the old lady died.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. lifelessons Post author

      When I was little I spent a lot of time with her because she liked to play games and teach me how to knit and crochet. As I got older, her martyrish tales got to me and I spent less time there. I found out at my 100 year town reunion that a family of 10 kids used to go watch TV with her every night because they didn’t have one. That made me feel better.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. thejuicenut

    I always have the same thought about my slippers when I step out of them to get into bed, about what they will say about me if I die in the night. I always align them perfectly side by side, so that when I get up in the night I can just step right into them. Sometimes, though, at the end of the day when I come to put them on, I notice they have moved out of step a little and that makes me wonder if they think I’m being a little too perfectionist.

    Liked by 1 person


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