BLUE RAIN BOOTS
My granddaughter
held out her hand,
"Look,
Grandma, what is this?"
She waved
an object back and forth,
As if for
emphasis.
Her sheepish
grin revealed to me,
She had
been somewhere forbidden,
Like into
boxes on a shelf,
That I
thought were well hidden.
Swinging
there upon a cord,
A small
canvas bag of blue,
I caught
the bag with my two hands,
And instantly
I knew.
"Honey,
where'd you find this?"
Shrugged
shoulders, her reply,
"I thought
that this was long since gone,"
A tear
sneaked from my eye.
"Don't
cry, Grandma, I'll put it back,
I'm sorry
I was bad."
"No, sweetheart,
it's all right,
Just for
a moment, I felt sad."
Then I took
her up unto my lap,
And we
opened up the bag,
Inside,
two rubber shoe-like soles,
Surrounded
by blue strips of rags.
"Ugh, Grandma,
who wants that?"
She jumped
down and left the room,
I held
blue remnants in my hands,
That time
and age had near consumed.
My grandchild,
much too young to share,
The history
of those scraps,
Something
now for me alone,
Or, my
God and me, perhaps.
Now, let's
see - what would it be,
Thirty
- forty - fifty years?
Could it
really be that long?
My eyes
swelled up again with tears.
I think
I was not twenty yet,
I know
I was in college,
I was self-supporting,
too,
And I had
this thirst for knowledge.
Money was
not plentiful,
I barely
covered food and rent,
I bought
no clothes; I had no treats,
I knew
I dared not waste a cent.
My mother,
too, was working hard,
And she
had bills to meet,
She wanted
so to help me out,
But, poor
soul, she also had to eat.
We commiserated
with each other,
Knowing
one day things would change,
Ever struggling
for the future,
We shared
our joys and our pains.
This day
- a vicious rainstorm,
Water rose
high over curbs,
The worst
storm of the season,
Was one
report I later heard.
Mom and
I had planned this outing,
Not too
concerned about the storm,
We met
at a local tearoom,
Which was
cozy, dry and warm.
Right off,
Mom saw how wet I was,
I was soaked
through to the skin,
"Honey,
where's your rain boots?"
"What a
state," she said, "You're in."
"Well,
Mom, I don't have any,
But I think
by ... next ... payday..."
The distressed
look up on her face,
Blew all
my words away.
She bit
her lip and said, "Oh, honey,"
Then she
took me to a store,
Which sold
rain gear at a discount,
Umbrellas,
boots, and more.
We picked
out a cheap umbrella,
Such guilt
I felt that night,
I knew
Mom should not spend the money,
Though
she kept saying, "It's all right."
Then we
chose blue canvas rain boots,
With thick,
black rubber soles,
Thick enough
to keep me dry,
Even if
I stepped in holes.
I remember
thinking at the time,
I'm not
a child any more,
Yet there
she was, still caring,
Just as
she had done before.
She said,
"It's just a little thing,"
Major sacrifice,
thought I,
I saw an
act of love that night,
That I'd
remember 'til I die.
My appreciation
then was great,
But now,
I think, it's greater,
Funny how
years fleeting by,
Increase
one's values later.
I sat back
then and thought about,
My mom
and when she died,
I thought
now I am old enough,
To take
that very ride.
"Yes, Mom,
soon I'll be joining you,
I've changed
since you were here,
But when
I arrive, you'll know me,
I'll be
wearing blue rain gear.
"I know
we have been promised,
Robes of
gold and pure white,
But if I
wear my old blue rain boots,
Mama, would
it be all right?"
Virginia (Ginny)
Ellis
copyright
1999 ~ revised 2004
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