A Mile in Her Shoes

originally written 7/23/2020

I walked a mile - maybe 3 - in my mother's shoes today.

Literally.

My mother died 5 months ago. Even though I said I didn't want any of her clothing, my older sister insisted I take a pair of my mother's shoes as we cleaned out her closet.

Clunky heel, black and white.

They looked fabulous. And fit perfectly.

I flew back home and woke up the next morning with weeks of work and errands to catch up on.

I put on an outfit that suited the shoes, slipped my feet in, and headed out the door.

All day, everywhere I went, I caught myself smiling, holding doors, looking at people in the eye. I connected. Felt taller, lighter, happier than I had in weeks.

Sure, the clean, dry California air was part of it. And yes, getting back to my life after weeks of tending to the aftermath of my mother's death helped my attitude.

But the real magic came from standing with my feet firmly planted in my mother's shoes and feeling her spirit course through me.