| My usual outfit is a dress, apron, and slippers.
My son has listened to me go on about these slippers, happily when the sort I
like are plentiful, grumpily if they are in short supply. Recently, there has
been a dearth of my preferred footwear.
Last night, he walked in carrying a bag. "I got you some slippers, Mom. They're
kinda weird, but your feet will be happy."
I opened it. Inside were two identical slippers: one black, one white.
He described emptying a store rack in search of a pair that would fit me. "There
must have been a million, but those were the last two in your size. Hope you
don't mind the colors."
Mind them? My heart smiled. I just hugged him, and laughed when he said that he
thought perhaps I could dye them.
Not on a bet.
Soon, someone will ring my doorbell. They will probably wonder, "What got into
her, wearing two different colored slippers? Gee, I hope she's okay"
I'm more than okay. My son gave me happy feet. I wouldn't change a thing about
them or him for the world.
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