Goals and Dreams

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Goals and Dreams

I hate to shop. I do not use that word lightly either. I had probably rather clean out my closet than go shopping. My mom always did the shopping around my house while I was growing up.

Though, when it came to shopping for clothes and shoes, attendance was required. I have always

lived in a small town. It is one of those towns where the local beauty shop is full of gossip and the local restaurant is full of coffee-drinkers and cigarette smoke. My mom, my older brother, my younger sister, and I would load up in the car and drive to the shoe store. The shoe store just outside of the town was pretty well-known ... to us. It was a long, narrow, white block building with a gravel parking lot. Inside it had a section for purses, one for belts, some socks, and of course, shoes.

I was always given the choice of whatever shoes I wanted. I knew though, to pass the

"mother inspection," it was best if they were mostly white and low-top. When I found what

I wanted, I had to try them on. I would walk around in them to see if the heel was going to slip up and down, check them out in those little mirrors they prop up in the floor, and (as the final stage of the analysis) have my toes mashed. My mom would get down in the floor and place her thumb at the end of my biggest toe. She always left this little dent in the end of my shoe, which I wasted no time popping out with the help of my toes. If there was "thumb-room" that meant there was growing room which, to her, seemed to be the most important part of shopping.

It is funny how we buy our clothes and shoes anticipating growth. This is not a bad idea. (I cannot say that I ever owned anything that stayed too big for very long.) Most of my life has been centered around the "biggers" and "betters." It worked. Each of the phases of my life have been, in hindsight, progressively greater experiences. I never wanted to leave elementary school; then I had a blast in high school.
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