The faces on the children were not those smiley, posed pictures that often went with pictures of Jesus. These were hungry kids who were grateful to have anything to eat. Not cake, candy or cookies, just real food to fill their hungry bellies. There was a visible difference in the kids who had been fed by Jesus. And as he was getting sleepier he remembered his 5 year old birthday at City Park and how his mom had fed the homeless people…He remembered their smiles and the look of gratitude they had when they were invited by a complete stranger to come and eat and drink. Right as he drifted off, he looked over at the children on the picture. They were barefoot, but they sure looked happy. And as he fell asleep he had no dreams that night.
Morning came soon enough. And then he thought about those shoes again. Wow they were so cool, he HAD to have them! As Paul awoke, the smell of bacon and biscuits distracted his waking thoughts and caused his stomach to actually growl. A sense of urgency and destiny shot through Paul as he dressed and went down to eat breakfast.
“Come on you guys!” Joseph bellowed, “Noah has a soccer game at 2:00 and your mom and I want to go get some coffee together this afternoon.”
Paul could feel his heart pounding. He could almost hear it! As the family loaded up in the van for the trip to the flea market, Paul began plotting and scheming as to how he could get his parents to loan him the extra money he needed to get those shoes. The trip to the French Quarter was non –eventful, but paul knew as they approached the quarter that something was going to happen, it just had to!
Joseph got an easy enough parking spot, and the family all piled out to walk to the Flea Market. It was their favorite place as a family to shop. There was a new dollar store, Dollar Island, in the next block, it was O.K., but a dollar actually went further at the flea market.
Rachel and Anna would find a treasure of dolls and doll clothes. Noah and Aaron could always find something, from damaged G.I. Joes to banged up monster trucks; these guys were easy to please. At Paul’s age, the electronics and old books and music tapes were always a place for him to start, but today, he went right to the shoe section. Sarah was always in her instinctual nesting mode. As the mother of such a large family, she was always on the lookout for items, whether, they be clothes, house wares or whatever she could find that would help her family. And she did an amazing job.
Joseph normally was content just to look at clothes for work he might be able to get at a decent price. But as he watched Paul in the shoe section, his heart sank. He could see his oldest son growing up right before his eyes. He was changing from a young boy to a man. He was in that awkward stage where his body was growing and his whole world and outlook on life was being shaped by his experiences. And it hurt him that he couldn’t provide those shoes for him that he wanted so badly. It was more than hurt, it was righteous indignation. That he should work so hard at his job and still not be able to give his son something very special, that meant so much to him, and it really bothered him.
He watched as Paul picked up one shoe after another, looking intently to see if it had the look of those shoes he really wanted. Time stopped for Joseph as he could see Paul searching for an alternate choice. In a brief second, he remembered how hard it is to grow up. As adults, he and Sarah and all his co workers were so busy with their lives and jobs, but for that short time he remembered. There was the all consuming uncertainty of not knowing, the fears of life, and the wonder of trying to figure out, who HE really was.
Even in the best of situations growing up is never easy. As time went by, everybody grabbed their item of choice. Of course, the girls had found dolls and doll clothes. Noah and Aaron had found a whole set of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They were wrapped together with some cheap masking tape and had .99 cents scribbled across the front. Never mind that Donatello was missing his left foot and Raphael had chew marks from the original owners dog on the left side of his head, the boys were pumped over their find. Sarah as usual had found everything the family had needed on this trip. An old crock pot (theirs had been broken for years), a flowered curtain thing she was going to put over the sink, some clothes for the girls, underwear for Noah and Aaron and a designer dress for herself that had been marked down to fifty cents.
Joseph had not found nor looked for anything. His heart was still sunk in the lower part of his chest. He hadn’t told Sarah, but he had planned to get Paul those shoes As he watched, Paul explain to Sarah that he just couldn’t find anything he wanted, and Joseph was drawn back again to that moment earlier, when he could feel the awkwardness of growing up. Paul was a good boy. And he was not being rude, demanding or manipulating when he told Sarah, “I just didn’t find anything I wanted.”
He was downcast, but in a humble way. As the family walked out into the square Joseph found himself leading the way, “Let’s go to Café DuMonde and get some beignets and after that, Mom, we’ll stop at Dollar Island.”
Well everyone was in agreement with that idea. It was 12:48 and a snack after such a big breakfast would be perfect before they headed out to the soccer game. And Paul realized that right next to Café DuMonde was THAD’S SHOE STORE! His heart began to beat a little faster. As they walked the three blocks to Café DuMonde, Joseph gave Sarah a glance to look at Paul. She knew what he was going to do without saying a word. After so many years of marriage they were able sometimes to communicate like this without saying a word, but with just a glance and an expression. Paul didn’t know what to think. His heart WAS beating a little faster, in a few seconds they would be walking right past THAD’S SHOE STORE, and right past those shoes.
He wondered would they be there. Maybe, would they have his size? Maybe he could just try them on but for some reason he didn’t hear any thoughts coming to mind thoughts like, “I’ll pay you back,” or, “I have nineteen dollars, can I borrow the rest and pay you back?”
But his heart was beating faster. As they approached the corner to cross the street, destiny was just a few seconds away. Up ahead on the left, Paul could see Café DuMonde, the green railing and old art deco sign that was such a part of the city. And over to his right he could almost see the shoe store sign, but at that point all he saw was AD’S SHOE STORE.
Then, as the family walked to the corner and stopped, Paul could see ALL of the sign now, THAD’S SHOE STORE. And as they took their next few steps to cross the street, Paul took his eyes down from the sign and looked to the side of the building; to where the side of the building met the street, and then he saw him. There was an older man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, but he looked much older, maybe seventy five or eighty. He was in old shabby clothes that were stained and wrinkled with holes all throughout Paul could tell that he had not bathed or had a decent meal in some time. He LOOKED hungry. His hair was brown, long and stringy and past his collar and was matted and different lengths. He hadn’t shaved in several days, and his face was dirty and wrinkled.
He had on an old army coat with stains all over and a small American flag on his left shoulder, and as Paul looked down he could see that the old man was sitting on some kind of cart with wheels on it. He didn’t have any legs! He had a little round tin can with pencils in it to his left side. Some had little miniature American flags on top. The others were just plain old pencils.
As they crossed the street, Paul looked at the man. He had an old cigar box open with a small amount of change, no dollar bills, sitting at the bottom of his stubs where his legs were supposed to be. People were walking by and passing him as he sat there. But nobody would even look at him.
The legless man seemed oblivious to the indifference and rather than hurt, pity or sadness, he just had a looked that showed that he EXPECTED it. No anger, no bitterness…just a quiet determination to live for that day. He seemed to be kind of staring off into the distance, but Paul noticed he had a hurt look on his face. Not so much from pain, but from loneliness. It was kind of a quiet desperation. Joseph and the rest of the family had to stop, because Paul had not moved, he just stared at t
he old man.
For a moment time stood still, and then, Boom! Something hit Paul like a train! His heart was still pounding and his breathing became more labored, but he walked slowly over to the old man, with a sense of purpose and he slowly felt his eyes filling with tears from the hurt and compassion of his young heart. And, as he got to the old man, he reached in his pocket and grabbed the wad of bills he had been saving up for his prize, his treasure, for those shoes and he pulled it out and reached down and put the money directly in the old man’s hands. And as he grabbed the old man’s hands he could feel the roughness and calluses that were so visible.
The old man looked up, his eyes met Paul’s, and at that moment – for both of them –the real meaning of love and compassion that words fall so short of describing flooded through them. It was nothing sentimental, or contrived, not planned –but certainly a supernatural, metaphysical moment that they both shared. And tears welled up in his eyes, and without even looking or knowing or caring how much money Paul had pressed into his weathered palm, a warmth flooded the old man’s entire body.
“God Bless you son!” The old man said, barely able to speak.
“God Bless you,” Paul uttered. Then, he turned and walked away back to his family, but he felt different inside. The exchange had taken less than a minute, but affected them both eternally. Words can’t begin to describe what happened. The family had watched their oldest son and brother turn into a man. Joseph felt his own tears well up in his eyes, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Sarah swallowed hard and tried to catch her breath, but oh! How, joyful was her heart. Nobody said a word as they walked into Café DuMonde. Except for Noah and Aaron, “Why didn’t you get one of those pencil flags since you gave him ALL your money?” Noah questioned.
“Why didn’t that man have no legs?” Aaron asked.
Joseph handled the role of father that day in a new capacity because of Paul’s act of kindness. He explained about the war, veterans, and people down on their luck. Joseph had wanted to take the time to use this incident as a teaching experience.
“You see guys, it seems like there has always been wars. People get greedy and fight over things and it is always the innocent that get hurt.”
As he continued on he got more and more strident, and as he was making point after point about war, injustice, poverty, greed and the futility of the human condition, Joseph glanced at Paul. But Paul’s thoughts were just on his beignets. They had never tasted so good before, almost like the bread must have been for the children in the picture of Jesus in his room, and he had that relaxed comforted feeling you get when you cry from your heart, and so did Joseph, and so did Sarah. And as they left to go to the soccer game without going to Dollar Island or a word ever being said about those shoes, finally, Sarah’s motherly instincts took over as they walked past THADS SHOE STORE, she had to say, “Paul, don’t you want to go in and see if they have those shoes you’ve been talking about so much?”
With a quiet hesitation he replied, “No Ma’am, it’s not so important anymore.”
And as they loaded up in the van to head to the game, Paul realized his thoughts about those shoes had begun to change way before he saw that old man, before breakfast that morning. He traced it back all the way to the night before, when he had prayed to get those shoes. All the way back to those barefooted children, smiling with their bread and the words:
“Whenever you have done this to the least of these, you have done it unto me also.”
~*~
Monday morning came quickly. The bus seemed to come earlier than usual. It was another beautiful October day with a brisk wind blowing. The sky was bluer than he had ever seen it before. As he stood at the end of the driveway the sun filtered through the oaks and pines and illuminated every leaf that was still left. And that feeling that had when eating the beignets was still there. It was there when he woke up and he felt that everything was right in the world. It was a feeling he couldn’t put into words. And not once, not even once had he thought about those shoes.
He couldn’t imagine a day more beautiful or precious than this day. Paul even felt excited about going to school. A Hubig’s Pie Truck drove by, and he almost thought he could smell the fresh apple pies inside. Everything went well that day. It was one of those days when he felt so good inside, a day that everything seemed to go right. He even had an early confrontation with the school bully –Matt Truby.
Matt was larger, meaner and more menacing than any of the lesser bullies at school. Matt knew how Paul felt about Diane Bailey. It wasn’t like they held hands or anything, but everyone knew that look that they had when they looked into each other’s eyes. As Paul was leaving class, Matt felt it would be a nice gesture to trip Paul as all the kids in class were leaving. As Matt stuck his foot out and pushed Paul from behind all of his books went flying. All the kids in the class and the hallway broke out into laughter –but it didn’t matter to Paul, it really didn’t even concern him. That was Matt Truby –that’s what Matt did to people. But today, it just wasn’t Paul’s concern. He just picked up his books and gave Matt a smile that really befuddled the bully. And as he walked off, Paul understood what it was like to be victorious.
Nothing and no one could steal Paul’s joy. All his classes went well. He had even gotten an A on a pop test in Math! In the cafeteria, they even served his favorite lunch that day; pizza, with salad and chocolate meringue pie for desert, and Diane Bailey never looked prettier. They talked with their classmates and with themselves about the things teenagers talk about. Diane had smiled at him; nothing else ever would matter ever more. They laughed.
Paul didn’t mention a thing about the old man or the shoes. And as the school day came to a close, he didn’t want it to end. The last sight he saw as he boarded his bus was Diane Bailey, smiling at him with her long brown hair blowing in the breeze, her blue eyes as bright and shining as the fall sky. And as she called out, “See you tomorrow!” her smile lingered in his memory forever. Forever stored in a perfect memory in his brain so perfectly, no computer could ever recall the crispness of her smile or the loving expression on her face. And as he walked down the street to his house, his saw the family van in the driveway. It wasn’t too unusual for Joseph to come home early on some days. And on the days when he did, he always seemed to make time to do something special with the boys in the afternoon, and spend some special time with the girls at night.
Paul walked to the front door and opened it; he stepped in the living room and could smell his mom’s cooking immediately. His mom and dad were hugging each other in the kitchen. His brothers were on the couch watching Sponge Bob and the girls were walking past the kitchen with their plastic teapots full of water ready to make some make- believe tea and over in Josephs easy chair that the family had gotten for him for his birthday two years ago was a plastic bag with a box in it, from Thad’s Shoe store, and in the box were those shoes!
~*~
Fantasy
~*~
A Mother’s Need
By
C. M. Bratton
Drippy drippy wet
Falling on my face
Can’t let the world forget
Our mighty hunters’ race.
The familiar childhood chant helped to soothe the knot of hunger gnawing at my belly. I hummed it softly to myself, hearing in my weak voice the shadow of my mother singing it to me as a child. I faltered, feeling the beat of my heart increase as my lungs strove to keep up with the simple melody.
The air was cool and crisp – thin so high up in the mountains. Perhaps that was why it took me so much effort to move. I lay back limply on the damp ground, shifting my body against the comforting feel of the soft earth. Around me all was quiet. It was as if I was the only living creature in that vast forest. I knew that couldn’t be true. I knew there must be thousands of little animals and insects crawling around me, climbing branches, or sleeping in caves. But I heard nothing. Smelled nothing.
I was alone.
I tried to blink back my tears as images of my daughter and mother rose up in my mind. My daughter had been unblessed by the Balance and punished for her inabilities. My mother had been used cruelly over and over, uselessly raging against her captivity. Both had died far too young, leaving me nothing.
My kind did not fare well isolated from our own kind, our families. We’re meant to live thus, great-mother and mother and child: Sthilisth. Occasionally males might walk with us for a while, but they’re far too restless to stay in any place for longer than a cycle. But a female alone, that only invited death. It made it so much harder to hunt, to plan. There was more wasted meat, more work, and the cold.
At that thought the air rustled over me and I shivered under my covering of dry leaves. I hadn’t lived in the mountains of my home since I was a babe, nestled in my mother’s sling as she traveled and hunted. She had been caught in the Azgin Plains north and east of the mountains, her hunger driving her further than was safe. But instead of killing her, wild tribesmen sold her to the other side of the Balance - the Draonds. And once under their cruel regard, my mother was granted a far slower, and much more agonizing death. And when her miserable life finally ended, I was chosen to replace her. Having known so little of freedom, I didn’t rail at my captivity. Or the deeds the Draonds made me commit. Many of those acts, I later realized, were quite enjoyable.
That was something my mother never accepted.
When my daughter was born to me – a half-breed mongrel to be sure – I was filled with joy. At last, a chance to build my own sthilisth. She wasn’t beautiful, not in the way of our kind. I’m not ashamed to admit that. But she was fierce and determined, storming her way through our home – well, the only home she’d ever had. Her father was initially pleased by her temperament and audacity. But when she turned out to have little talent ...
My breath caught in my throat.
He killed her. My little daughter.
And then he left.