A Pair of Shoes, A Hot Afternoon
I stood under a golf umbrella and watched a gaggle of elementary school kids play street hockey. They wore team jerseys and a PE coach called out directions from the sidelines. These pre-tournament matches are as low stakes as it gets but to the kids running in the heat, sweat dripping down their faces, this was important. Not because there was a prize awaiting them, but because they were a team.
My golf umbrella was the only shade for our team’s bench. Each time the coach subbed out another player, I scooted over to make sure the overheated kid got a break from the sun. Toward the end of the third and final match, the girl in the folding chair started crying. Her mom was at her elbow in an instant.
“My feet feel like they have needles in them,” she said.
“Did the shoes hurt last time you wore them?”
“Yes.” She hadn’t thought to share this information before running in them for an entire afternoon. Poor thing probably had blisters.
The girl cried harder and the mom shushed her softly. I instinctually worried that she was trying to quiet her out of embarrassment, but no. She coached her “shh, shh, just breathe, ok?”
The girl’s grandma walked over and immediately the mom had a solution. “Her feet are hurting. Can she borrow your shoes?”
Without a second thought, Grandma planted her foot on the side of the chair and started undoing the laces. It only took a moment for her to hand both shoes over and stand in her socks on the hot blacktop as her granddaughter slid them on.
“These ones are already broken in,” Grandma said. “You can keep these.”
The mom responded, “no, you’ve already given her so many shoes.”
The game ended with a decisive whistle from the ref before the girl could be subbed back in. The big shoe swap was now demoted from final minutes of the final match to a post-game walk back to the car. But that didn’t seem to matter. As long as they could help, the mom and Grandma were content.
It’s a sight to behold. A girl in her grandma’s shoes, cared for from head to toe. Three generations of women, the elder unthinkingly generous to the younger. Seeing kindness around me used to make me cry. Now it fills me with hope. I like to remember that moments like this can and do exist.
Simple things aren’t so simple when you know what it’s like to be without.
Thanks for reading, friends. My way of sharing this kindness with you is to create art that warms and comforts and uplifts.
Check out my latest book, Creative Escapes: Treehouse Coloring.
36 original designs, the silliest treehouses you’ve ever seen, an imagination freed to dream. Share a copy with a friend who needs a proverbial pair of shoes after a long, blistery week.
If you’re wondering about the results of the matches, our raggedy team lost all three games and we (my son and I at least) went home to shower off the fatigue and eat a celebratory pizza dinner.