I told my younger daughter, now in her 30s, the story of the red shoes. There's no pride or pleasure in this episode from childhood. I am a younger daughter, and so is she. She commented that the youngest in the family goes through childhood as the least capable person in the family: for years and years.
In childhood, it felt like we always had the minimum, no extras. As the younger sister, many of my clothes were hand-downs as usual in that era.
So, you can imagine the excitement when Mum came home with special shoes, red shoes, for BOTH of us.
And not just any shoes, plastic shoes. Something innovative, never seen before. They even had an exotic name - Jelly Lubbers. Who had ever heard of such a thing?
We loved parading around in our new shoes. They felt so special on our feet. We were united in our love for these amazing shoes and we wore them everywhere except to school, and Sunday School.
One day we were at the park, and took our shoes off to climb and play. Mum called, we grabbed our things and headed for the car. I can't remember how long it was before I discovered I had only one shoe. Was it the same day? Or the next day?
I was distraught. What a loss! I was heartbroken. Mum was furious. We went back to the park, but the missing shoe wasn't there.
Home again. Mum was angry. I was a failure. Again. Sue gloated that SHE hadn't lost her shoes. It felt like a betrayal. Like they ganged up against poor heartbroken me.
So.
So, I took my sister's red shoes, crawled under the house, and buried them.
Yes. I did that.
Now, she was distraught and crying. She said she remembered the thump they made when she dropped them into the bottom of the cupboard. I kept out of the way.
Mum was beyond herself. Two useless, feckless daughters.
I was now ahead - at least I had one shoe. But I was broken hearted. Rare, precious and wonderous shoes were lost, I was betrayed by my sister and my mother was furious and in despair.
Sometimes I wonder whether the shoes will ever be found, and what the finder will think. Being plastic, they'll be there for thousands of years, probably much longer than the timber house.
Years later, I recounted the story to my sister, and said I was sorry...... She had completely forgotten the episode.
I could hardly believe it, because it has scarred me for life. It was years before it even crossed my mind that my mother could have handled it differently. She could have sympathised with my loss and comforted me. But no, she could only see her own loss.
With two daughters of my own, I tried hard to prevent the competitive, oppositional dynamic that festered between my sister and me. I am glad to think they are good friends. Two very different people who share mutual respect and care for each other.
The work of the Present is to Repair the Past and Pay for the Future. This story is part of that process.
In childhood, it felt like we always had the minimum, no extras. As the younger sister, many of my clothes were hand-downs as usual in that era.
So, you can imagine the excitement when Mum came home with special shoes, red shoes, for BOTH of us.
And not just any shoes, plastic shoes. Something innovative, never seen before. They even had an exotic name - Jelly Lubbers. Who had ever heard of such a thing?
We loved parading around in our new shoes. They felt so special on our feet. We were united in our love for these amazing shoes and we wore them everywhere except to school, and Sunday School.
One day we were at the park, and took our shoes off to climb and play. Mum called, we grabbed our things and headed for the car. I can't remember how long it was before I discovered I had only one shoe. Was it the same day? Or the next day?
I was distraught. What a loss! I was heartbroken. Mum was furious. We went back to the park, but the missing shoe wasn't there.
Home again. Mum was angry. I was a failure. Again. Sue gloated that SHE hadn't lost her shoes. It felt like a betrayal. Like they ganged up against poor heartbroken me.
So.
So, I took my sister's red shoes, crawled under the house, and buried them.
Yes. I did that.
Now, she was distraught and crying. She said she remembered the thump they made when she dropped them into the bottom of the cupboard. I kept out of the way.
Mum was beyond herself. Two useless, feckless daughters.
I was now ahead - at least I had one shoe. But I was broken hearted. Rare, precious and wonderous shoes were lost, I was betrayed by my sister and my mother was furious and in despair.
Sometimes I wonder whether the shoes will ever be found, and what the finder will think. Being plastic, they'll be there for thousands of years, probably much longer than the timber house.
Years later, I recounted the story to my sister, and said I was sorry...... She had completely forgotten the episode.
I could hardly believe it, because it has scarred me for life. It was years before it even crossed my mind that my mother could have handled it differently. She could have sympathised with my loss and comforted me. But no, she could only see her own loss.
With two daughters of my own, I tried hard to prevent the competitive, oppositional dynamic that festered between my sister and me. I am glad to think they are good friends. Two very different people who share mutual respect and care for each other.
The work of the Present is to Repair the Past and Pay for the Future. This story is part of that process.
