A lot of things in my life have changed since 2009. I've moved to the country so I guess it's only fitting that this story of Christmas shoes should be boots. But, the biggest change in my life has been the death of my mother. I knew Christmas without her would be hard-it was HER holiday. She lived and breathed for Christmas. Her shopping for Christmas started every year on January first. She loved to find Christmas printed toilet paper and every mail order catalog was sent to her house. She was a mail order Queen. It was not surprising that she called me to her bedroom back in May to show me her latest Christmas acquisition... a pair of boots for my youngest daughter.In the weeks following her untimely death, I cleaned her bedroom for hours and never saw those boots again. I guess it slipped my mind. There were so many other things to think about and take care of.
The months slipped by and it was time to celebrate Christmas. Our family is larger than life. Love filled every nook and cranny of a three story Ozark cabin. It had come time to open gifts. My daughter opened a box from her Grandma and Grandpa Mike, and inside were those boots. She slipped off her shoes and put them on. I tried to tell those sitting next to me that Mom had gotten those boots for her but I choked over the lump in my throat and spilled red wine all over a cream colored blouse. As those next to me cleaned me up, my daughter made her way to Grandpa to thank him for the boots. He told her that Grandma was the one that had bought them for her. A perfect fit. They matched her Christmas outfit. Concentrating on clearing my own eyes, I didn't see her give her Grandpa Mike a big hug or all the other misty eyes in the room, but I know they were there. I also know that crazy lady was doing a jig in heaven because the boots fit and that she loved them.
