Foot-loose

By Penny M
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Having scuffed my heels towards retirement at sixty, I find myself flying down the moving carpet in the departure lounge. Yes, it’s early, but I’m wearing different shoes these days and can’t wait to kick them off.

I doubt they will fit anybody else. When a would-be successor discovers what size my feet were, how many toes were crossed inside, they might choose a different pair. The leather caps are sucked to perishing from getting them in my mouth. Nobody else would lick them; I wasn’t far enough up the food chain. The heels are worn from the dragging and the backs bear the marks of the many times I’ve had to change gear during my journey. I could go on about the colour, style and smell etcetera, but I’m sure you’ve got the picture.

I am so excited!

No, my pockets aren’t overflowing, and I will have to earn my keep so that I don’t have to live in my shoe when I become an older woman. It’s time to turn dreams into action and spend precious moments with the family and friends who are most important in my life.

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P.S. If by any chance Prince Charming turns up at your door with a slipper,  you know where to find me.
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