my daughter's first pair of shoes

My daughter, Rosie, was born in June. That first summer, fall, winter and even the spring, she had no need for shoes because she did not walk. And when she did start walking, around her first birthday, I tried to let her run around barefoot as long as I could.

Like many new mothers, I read lots of magazines about parenting. I had read somewhere that letting children go barefoot was good for them. I don't remember why.  I remember I wanted to do what was good for my baby.

The time came, however, when she had to have shoes.  I am tearing up already as I suss out my joyful memories of buying that first pair of shoes.

We went to a mall. Everyone only shopped in malls in Omaha in those days, the old market part of town eventually was renovated with boutiques but when Rosie was one, malls were pretty much it.

I took her to a children's shoe store.

My mom had always insisted on buying quality shoes for her children, scoffing at folks who put cheap shoes on their kids. I had internalized this. I still try to only wear 'good' shoes with good support myself. I certainly would only put good shoes on my baby.

We picked out a pair of baby pink leather Capezios. They were just like the white high top little shoes most babies get for their first pair. Slightly heightened backs for ankle support, I guess. That pink leather was so soft in color and so soft in leather. They were beautiful shoes.

I was delighted that I did not have to buy the standard white ones. Thrilled.

And so was Rosie. She probably didn't know most first shoes were those white high top things. (I wonder what kinds of shoes are baby's first shoes in 2014?). She was still thrilled. She probably would have been thrilled by any pair. She probably was not ecstatic because they were pink, although my Rosie was born with an innate sense of fashion. She always cared about what she wore and often refused to wear perfectly good, even beautiful things that did not match her aesthetic. No kidding, at age 18 months, she could successful refuse to wear what I had chosen for the day. I knew early on that my Rosie had a great power to attract what she wanted.

The pink Capezios still delight me whenever I recall them, which I don't often. Writing about shoes earlier reminded me of them.

She stomped out into the mall, where we had often walked, her in a stroller until that day when she finally had shoes, during cold weather to get some exercise. Lots of people used to walk in malls for exercise in Minnesota and Nebraska, when it's too cold to walk much outdoors. Now I would walk outdoors in any weather. I never mall walked except when I had a baby, protecting her from the cold.

So she knew the mall as familiar ground.

She ran out of the store, stomping joyfully. Then she would stop, bend over to get as close as she could to her shoes to look at them proudly. Then stomp around some more, bend over again, admire the new pink delights. Then stomp on.

A secretary from my wasband's office was in the mall, running an errand during lunch time. She saw Rosie's joyful display of love for her new shoes. I forget the secretary's name but she was just about as pleased to see Rosie's simple joy over those pink Capezio high tops as I was.

When she outgrew the first pair, I bought another identical pair in a larger size. Then we had to move on in our shoe choices because we could no longer find the pink Capezios.

Nice karma. Rosie went on to be a great dancer. She was a member of two different professional dance companies while in high school. (writes this proud mama).  I mention this because Capezios make a lot of dance shoes.

I still love her. I still love the delight she took in those new pink shoes. And I love those pink Capezios.

I miss my daughter.