I remember when I was a little girl, I would get on a chair to reach the high-heeled shoes in Mommie’s closet.
Wearing those sparkly, fancy, elegant stilletos made me feel big inside and tall and lovely outside.
Then I would put on her cocktail dress that I knew was meant for a queen. I would toss my pressed and messed hair to the side, and imagine I walked the runway like the Simplicity models on the sewing packages.
I recall the days like yesterday.
Looking in her full-length mirror, holding a fake cigarette, while blowing smoke so sexily out of the corner of my mouth,
I was being my Mommie.
Then I learned to teach because she brought me teacher books and papers to grade, and I had a class full of naughty kids in my bedroom everyday.
With the whistle around my neck, gradebook in my hand, and chalk dust all over the room,
I was being my Mommie.
I wore the big shoes that only a great teacher wears
I clicked the heels of the big shoes that only a Mommie wears
I tied the laces of the big shoes that were simply my little baby-shoes, but I called them my GoGo boots
Today, as I realize that my GoGo boots don’t fit,
The high-heels she wore will never be worn by me,
And the teacher shoes are out of style,
I guess the only shoes left for me are my own,
The ones she taught me to walk in proudly
Because I will never be able to fill my Mommie’s big shoes.
Spur of the Moment Poetry by JoyEleven 1-17-11
