The Shoe

The shoe lay on the ground, half hidden in a clump of sprawling blue periwinkle. It looked like a Cinderella slipper, a high-heeled fantasy, sparkling like a wish or a promise.  For a moment, I forgot my advanced age and dreamed of the girl I used to be.  Of a time when everything lay before me and anything seemed possible.  Time telescoped, the decades seeming no more than minutes of my life.  Where had that girl gone?

Then reality clamoured, releasing me from the spell of yesteryear.  Why was the shoe here, incongruously nestled in the undergrowth?  I looked around for some kid with a hidden camera, lying in wait to see what I would do.  There was no sign of anyone nearby, no tell-tale rustling in the wood, no hurried breathing or smothered giggle.  Even the birds had stilled their song.  As far as I could tell, I was alone.

I hesitated a moment longer then bent down, using my stick as support.  My knees ached, protesting the unaccustomed action, but I ignored the pain and reached for the abandoned shoe.  It felt light in my hand, a cobweb of silk and sequins, insubstantial as a dream.  The contrast of the smooth silk against my withered hand caught me unawares.  I felt a sudden acid stab of anguish beneath my ribs.  So many years gone by since I had danced in shoes like this.  So many dreams destroyed by careless promises, leaving me alone and disappointed.  And old.

I knelt in the leaf litter with the shoe in my hand and wished, with all my heart, for a chance to go back, make different choices.  Above me, a robin sang and in my head I heard other music, the band striking up that final waltz, the last dance, last chance before all hopes were broken.  I saw his hand reach towards me and stretched out my own, not realising that it was not to me that he reached but to my friend who did not care for him but, flushed with triumph, left me alone and unpartnered as the waltz began.

Tears ran unheeded down the furrows of my face before a second, sharper pain took my breath and huddled me closer to the ground, the shoe falling from my grasp.  Now the robin’s song sounded a shrill trill of warning as pain clenched my heart.  I knew then, that my time was done.  There was nothing left to me but this final pain and the sight of the silver shoe, a sparkle like dewdrops on the grass, misty and insubstantial like all my dreams.