Five Minute Friday

Five Minute Friday Okay it’s Five Minute Friday except I’m posting on Thursday night at 10PM because our lovely hostess Lisa-Jo Baker has taken pity on us old tired moms and decided to move to an earlier time.  Different time but same lovely group of amazing writers who gather to write fearlessly and without over editing and worrying about what other’s think.  And the best part?  We all make sure to sprinkle some comment love on the person who linked up before us. Won’t you join us here?

Word is: RED


I was thirteen going on thirty.  All gangly and awkward, legs too long for a not quite grown up form.  I had glasses as big as owl eyes and beautiful is not what I felt. 

I was out of place and didn’t know what to do in my skin or with this all-of-the-sudden woman body that was blooming before I was ready.

Grade Eight graduation was just around the corner and I couldn’t figure out how to make myself beautiful.  There wasn’t a lot money, we weren’t poor, but we weren’t rolling in it either.  There were 4 plus 2 foster kids to feed so the dress was a Goodwill find.

All creamy white with lace on the collar and tiny pearl seed buttons up the front.  I wasn’t sure and I looked at it with a skeptical teenage eye knowing full well what the other girls would be wearing.  Taffetta with bows and the Anne of Green Gables “puffed sleeves” that I so desperately wanted.

“Trust me,” she said around a mouth-full of pins. 

The dress hung washed, pressed and ready and I eyed it dubiously. 

“Shoes,” she said next. “You need new shoes.”

The next Saturday morning found me in the car next to my mom while we drove to the next town over.  We parked in front of Brennan’s shoes.  It was another time.  A time when small towns still boasted family run shoe stores and they knew your name when you walked through the door.

We hummed and hawed for a while, looking over shoes.  Picking up this pair and that pair.  I felt the softness of kid leather, caught my reflection in the shiny black paten.  I was mesmerized by shoes when I heard her exclaim from back in the corner…

“Red!! You need red shoes to go with  your dress.”

And there they were.  Soft leather pumps, red as red can be.  They had just enough of a heel to make me feel like I was grown up and not so much that I’d look like Bambi on ice whilst walking.

I felt like Cinderella after the ball when Mr. Brennan cupped my ankle and slipped that shoe on my foot.

One pair of shoes and one red clutch purse later I went from gangly, awkward teenager to feeling like I had just gone through a rite of passage.  Moved from girl to woman.  And, as I stepped out on to the sidewalk and climbed into the car I remembered what my mom said to me earlier in the week.

“Trust me.”



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