'Finding my own Shoes'

At two years old, I would dance around in my Great-Grandma's heels and pearls.  My mother would say, "I know you think you're being pretty, but those aren't your shoes."  And I would stop.

At six years old, I would pretend to be a teacher and educate my dolls.  My mother would walk into my room and say, "I know you think that you're smart, but those aren't your shoes."  And I would stop.

At ten years old, I would pretend I was the greatest singer.  My mother would walk into my room and say, "You may think that your voice is pretty, but those aren't your shoes."  And I would stop.

At fourteen years old, I would try to be the best person I could.  My mother would look at me and say, "I know you think you're a good person and daughter, but those aren't your shoes."  And I would try harder. 

At eighteen years old, I would work and go to college.  My mother would call just to say, "I know you think you're trying to better yourself, but those aren't your shoes."  And I would try harder.

At twenty-one years old, I would work, go to college, and take care of my baby.  My mother would say, "I know you think you're a good mother, but those aren't your shoes."  And I would try harder.

STOP!

At twenty-seven years old, I AM pretty.  I AM smart.  I DO have a pretty voice.  I AM a great person and daughter.  I AM a great mother and now wife.  And....

Those ARE my shoes!


----Short story posted by Sarah Farris on the Columbus Creative Cooperative website.