Memory

I am standing on a slatted wooden porch in the sun full of happiness looking at my brand new patent leather shoes, they are red and wonderful. The creaky screen door opens and an elderly woman admires my shoes then says "Come in, I have something for you." I step into the familiar cool of her kitchen. I am two.

(The shoes went the way of shoes, I carried the stuffed dog she gave me through four more moves and rescued it from the trash at 17yo when my mother threw it out---all worn and loved to pieces---)