the power of your sister’s shoes

eleanor has become obsessed with a pair of shoes.


in her mind, they fit.

i’ve been helping her in and out of these, feeling like i could take on something larger than myself.

i can still make believe my way into reality, right?


the determination involved in doing what we haven’t yet achieved is tiresome.  real life calmly lets you know there’s a lot that needs to get done around this place.  real life throws up a detour sign leading away from your big idea about every three miles or so.

but not for the child.  for a child the business of fitting into things too big is real life.

these things i haven’t done yet,  i have to get busy because there’s more to do.  these shoes i can not fit into, hand ’em here because i need to go for a walk.

eleanor has places to go.


maybe you do, too.

i want to do what is bigger than me.  i want to say, like the song sings, don’t tell me what can not be done.

these days a little child is leading.


3 replies on “ the power of your sister’s shoes ”
  1. found you via Ann… the post she linked to was exquisite; your words resonated with me, painted such a clear picture of events, but in such an ethereal way… thank you.

    and this post? a friend and i were just recently discussing my daughter, four-going-on eleven, and how everything is just such an exciting event, and is it happening right now, and when do we leave for vacation in June, is it after my nap? we laughed and promised each other to be *that* excited about things whenever we can this week.

    unadulterated, unembarrassingly excited. it has brought a new level of joy to my days, and these words about your Eleanor uncaring about the fit and how you see that mirrored in your own life, but eclipsed by real life? … well. thank you. i’m thinking, and smiling.


  2. I love the phrase “I want to do what is bigger than me.” beautifully written and beautifully depicted. Thank you for sharing your contemplations.

    I also echo “the determination involved in doing what we haven’t yet achieved is tiresome.” there are days when I feel bone-weary from it, when I look at my canvases and my folders full of stories and I feel the shortcomings in them glowering back and I think, “I’m still doing this why exactly?” and then, like a dog, wet from a bath, I shake my head to rid the thought and tell myself, “well, let’s keep going, we’ve got work to do and we haven’t seen the best of it yet and won’t if you quit now.”

    I love how you craft analogies from these daily life things we call “commonplace,” and how you speak of the subtle and extraordinary in them.

  3. elise,

    thank you for your kind words. how’s it going on being *that* excited? i don’t know if i’m up for it 🙂


    i love seeing your comments. thanks for the encouragement.


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