Writing Pieces

My shoes are in the garden.

By July 6, 2021August 30th, 20214 Comments
Shoes

My shoes are in the garden.  Facing the white hyacinths.  But I am not there.

I might be under the tousled covers in the bedroom at the end of the hall on the left. Waking to see the girl I was at seventeen.  Sitting at the end of the bed.

Or I might be in the portico having my morning coffee with my dog.  Who will eventually turn, look at me and say, “I have loved you.  You have been a good friend.”

My shoes are in the garden but I am not there.

I might be at my desk in the studio writing to you.  Telling you that I am uncertain.  I have never known.

I could be walking down the driveway.  Because it is shady.    Avoiding the splotches of sunlight.  It is very hot.

If I am in my car I am driving on a road I do not know.  I choose that.

If I am meeting you I will not be late.  I have done that and I feel the weight of making you sit alone in a place not of your choosing.

If I am speaking to my daughter I will tell her the things that she does not know. Does not know about me.  Things I want her to know in that vast scape of time when I will not be.

My shoes are in the garden facing the white hyacinths.  But I am not there.

Mary Mott's Podcasts
Mary Mott's Podcasts
My shoes are in the garden.
/

Join the discussion 4 Comments

  • Anita says:

    Love this! ❤️

  • Suzanne says:

    Love the line about telling your daughter the things she doesn’t know about you

  • Vicky Bates says:

    Well done and moving❤️

  • Chris says:

    At first while reading, I felt the notion of shoes left behind was about vacancy or death. And yet, as I finished reading the piece, I found I was left with a lightened spirit. One by one, the images created made me think the piece is about choice. The gentle reminder that we can (somewhat) choose where, when and how we spend our time. Subtle but so potent!♥️

Leave a Reply