for my grandma
A distinct memory teases at my brain – trying on pairs of boots in grandma’s closet. Finally being able to fit her shoes. Being as tall as her – something that I felt marked being grown up. When I could be as tall as grammy, wear her shoes, I was grown up – a woman.
I was 12.
I loved the smell, the look, the feel of her boots. They made me feel tall, seem womanly. They made me feel important. As I packed them away in my suitcase, I felt a quiet power, a sense of accomplishment. I felt connected, and loved. I could walk in grammy’s shoes.
I was 5 feet tall.
Those boots no longer fit me, and my height has now surpassed my grandmother’s. But I still feel I can walk in grammy’s shoes. I can love and live like her. I can teach, and give like her. I can fight and endure like her. I can wear her kindness, and her smile. And