Shoes

 Originally Written Between 2016-2017

I was so excited.  It was the first of May and I was nearing the end of second grade.  Next month, I would be 8 years’ old.  Everyone told me I was “such a nice girl” and so lucky to be the first girl in my family to make her First Communion.  My older brother, Steve, had already done that three years’ before me and my younger sister, Joanne, had to wait three more years before it would be her turn.

So – I was the special girl!  I had the spotlight!  I would get all the attention at the little party my mom and dad was hosting to celebrate this auspicious occasion.  My grandma and grandpa would be there.  My aunts and uncles and all my cousins would certainly be very proud of me.  Well, maybe not my cousins.  What did they care?  But, my favorite Aunt Jeanette would probably be especially happy for me!

I can picture myself now.  Mom bought me the prettiest white dress.  I can twirl around in it and when I do, one can see my pretty slip with the lace on the bottom.  I plan on twirling a lot.  My veil is very special, too.  You see, mom is letting me use the very same veil that she wore when she married my dad.  I’ve seen their wedding pictures and I can’t wait to look like a bride, too.  Mom had to cut down the veil a little so it would be the right length for me.  The headpiece has tiny white flowers on it.  Oh, I’m going to look so pretty.  I even got a permanent in my hair a couple of week’s ago.  My mom – she thinks of every thing!

My Catechism cIass of 34 kids was so busy memorizing our prayers and learning where we were suppose to stand and when to kneel and when to sit, and so forth, that all of a sudden the big day was here! 

Mom got me ready.  First, my slip.  Then my lacy socks.  My dress and my veil.  Of course my white gloves, prayer book and rosary were all ready for me to wear at the last minute.  Wait – my shoes!  Where are my white shoes – the ones that I had envisioned with the cute little buckle?  My mom came into my room with the brown school loafers that I had been wearing all year long.  That’s what I’m going to wear on my feet?  BROWN shoes?  

To this day, I don’t know why I didn’t have white shoes.  I don’t know if mom simply forgot to buy them?  Maybe they couldn’t afford them?  Maybe my dad put his foot down and said, “enough was enough – she doesn’t need a pair of shoes that she’ll only wear once or twice – no one’s going to notice”?  I really don’t have the answer.  I remember putting up quite a fuss; but, what could I do?  We had to leave in just a few minutes and these were the only shoes I owned.  And, going barefoot was not an option – especially in church, for heaven’s sake!

All I know is out of the 17 or so girls in my class, I was the ONLY ONE who wore BROWN shoes.  And to make matters worse, the priest had arranged for our group to have a class picture with him on the steps of our church.  Guess what row I was in?  Yep!  I was near the middle of the first row.  Me – in my pretty dress, my mom’s veil, my new socks and gloves, and my brown school shoes.  I did not feel special any more.  I felt out of place – an alien.  I know now that I was, of course, the only one who had noticed.  But, when one is almost eight years’ old, being an alien is a big deal. 

I’d like to say that I soon got over it.  That the presents and all the attention I got from my family erased the bad feelings I had.  But, as you can tell – well over 60 years’ later, I can still remember all the details.  I can’t remember if I confessed the bad thoughts I had, though.  I hope I did.