Shoes
A family member asked that we do something with Maya’s shoes. As with all of our shoes, we keep them in the mudroom. They’re the first thing we notice as we enter our home. Without questioning, as soon as I had a chance, I packed up Maya’s shoes and brought the box up to the attic.
Each pair of shoes has so many stories. The most vivid one for me was from our last weekend together. We went to Provincetown for an adventure, just the two of us. I didn’t want to bring my agenda to the weekend. My hope and plan was to be with Maya fully. Mathew reminded me before our journey, “she hasn’t been very talkative lately. Try to be quiet.” That was a real discipline for me, but I followed his advice.
I know that Maya’s developed a love for longboarding this past year. I thought, perhaps she could teach me how. We could even longboard down Commercial Street together! Little did I know that is was quite a bit harder than it seemed.
Maya taught me how to longboard; we borrowed her friend, Isa’s board. We spent hours in the parking lot of the hotel. My sneakers were too sticky, making it hard to get on and off swiftly. Maya lent me her Keds with smooth bottoms. She was so patient, and we had many laughs. I didn’t master the skill enough to longboard down Commercial Street, but Maya had fun doing so. (If you take out your magnifying glass, you’ll be able to see Maya in the photo below.)
I’m not sure what is more painful; the shoes in the mudroom, or the empty space.
I have read all of yours and Mathews post and I feel so deeply connected and want you to know I’m thinking of you but your writings are having such an impact and reminding of the importance of being present… Always!thank you for your courage
Deep thanks, Kellyann.
dearest Elise,
I keep thinking I would like to make an art piece (sculptural book) honoring Maya, but the form hasn’t yet jelled.
I still have garments of my father’s, who died in 1963. When I put on his red-and-black checked wool hunting shirt, it is as if he is there.
I loved reading this entry. I can only imagine you two laughing in Provincetown learning how to board together. Truro is one of our favorite places to go as a family, and I have loved seeing your family photos of your time at the same campground where we stay. Thank you for sharing your stories.
Dear David,
I too, love knowing of both of our family’s tradition (and that of other kindred spirits from our region), in Truro at our cherished campground. We have been fed there. This brings up a new question. Like the shoes; is it better to put them away? Will we continue to go? We will figure things out, one step at a time. For now, my work is to be in the present. Breath by breath. Thank you for your support.
Is not easy to take a decisione . you are a strong family.
Essa, thank you. Despite the distance and years, I feel your support.
My dear Elise,
I have no words for the range of emotions your story and pictures conjures up in me. I remember seeing several pair of Maya’s black Keds in the mud room. I can’t imagine the pain of putting them in the attic. But I also hold onto that oh, so special weekend you two shared. She was such a terrific daughter, who loved you, and Mathew so very much. You offered her and she grabbed every adventure and opportunity that was out there. Mutual deep love…..
Thank you.
All of your stories, pictures and words from the heart touch all of us so deeply. This one really got to my mother heart. The smell of her clothes. The shoes she wore. Her hairbrush. Things as mothers, we barely take notice of….yet these very things can bring forth so many memories and emotions. Again I say thank you LiLi, for sharing with us. <3
Thank you SuSu for your support. One friend shared with me that reading my posts have been too sad for her. I understand. I’m relieved to know that you and others (who’ve shared both here and personally) are reading and open to mother (and other) hearts being touched. Love.