Several days ago, I purchased a pair of shoes. Adding the new pair to my collection brought to life a shoe encounter with my spouse and two sons. He had accepted a job that stretched across our state, and when he brought the U-haul truck home, the boys wanted to help fill it.

The moving van was heaping, and we still had house plants and my shoes to put somewhere. Pat opened the back of our van, made room, and told the boys to start stacking the boxes there.

He and I were making homes for my plants when he suddenly turned to me and asked, "Do you know how many plants we've loaded?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, there are one hundred twelve plants here. I don't think we need anymore."

At that very instant, my youngest son yelled, "Dad, do you know how many pair of shoes we've put in the van?"

Turning toward them he said, "No."

"Eighty seven, and there's still a pile in the house," they chatted together in fun.

"Don't load anymore, "Pat barked. As he carried several boxes at a time on each trip from the dining room where the boys had them piled back to the van, he yelled, "one hundred one, one hundred two, one hundred three, one hundred four, one hundred five pairs of shoes, Carol Meeks. You only wear one pair at a time. No more plants and no more shoes."

The boys were sorry they had brought this information to his attention. They looked at Pat and then at me watching the tension fly.

To break the ice, I finally said, "I threw three pair away."

At last, laughter filled the air.

© 1990 Carol Dee Meeks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am retired and loving every minute of it.