Last week, while scrolling on Bluesky, I came across a post by a photographer who usually posts photos of mushrooms.
Yes, I follow him for his mushroom shots, they’re quite spectacular and a nice break from ::: waves widely at the all.the.chaos ::: 🙂
However, on this particular day, he posted a vague inquiry about baby shoes which has since been deleted.
Alas, it got it me thinking about my Grandma Eve’s baby shoes that were left to me when she passed away in 1997.
They’re like tiny Mary Janes and worn to bits.
They have (what was once) an off-white canvas exterior, hard soles with metal nails, the sweetest little buttons, and a fluffy, cozy interior.
Probably not incredibly comfortable for her little feet, but she wore them none-the-less and she wore them until her tiny toes started wearing their way out the front, as they tend to do.
I don’t pull them out often, but I wanted to hold them while it was all at the top of my mind, so hold them I did.
I reflected on how fast our babies become children before becoming teens and then striking out in independence…
Our children grow up, create their own lives, and maybe have children of their own.
And the cycle continues.
I never knew Eve the baby or Eve the child…
I didn’t know sulky Eve or newly in love Eve…
I didn’t know pregnant Eve or Mama Eve…
I only knew Grandma Eve, on the other side of her life spectrum…
After her baby girl had a baby girl.
I knew the Eve that smelled of cigarettes and black coffee…
The Eve obsessed with the colors black, white, and tan…
The Eve who spoke of Jazz music and poetry and her Daddy, Dutch, who was her hero and made the most marvelous oatmeal raisin cookies.
But once upon a time she was little and those tiny shoes fit on her tiny feet and she prattled about surely talking someone’s ear off about something because I cannot imagine she didn’t come into this world chatting from go.
Life moves swiftly. Let’s not run too quickly through it, OK?
Onward,
Melissa
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It’s surprising to me, as I near 70, how fast life goes. My grandparents and my mother never got to meet my grandchildren. I am the bridge between those generations. I hope to remind the younger ones about the older ones so they can know them a bit, too.
I play the same role in my family as the bridge between all who’ve come before me and all who’ve come after. I rather like it and am honored to keep the ancestors’ memories alive.
This post moved me to tears. What a lovely tribute to your grandmother. It captured the complexity as she moved through the various stages of her life. Yes, “Life moves swiftly. Let’s not run too quickly through it, OK?” A lesson for me to relearn over and over, even at my age as I approach 70.
Thank you so much, Laurie. I’m so glad it resonated <3
Oh that is so neat! I love that you have your grandma’s baby shoes. I grew up in that time when it seemed like everyone was bronzing their children’s baby shoes. So I’m pretty sure mine are bronzed and attached to a frame somewhere and while I didn’t keep my boys’ first shoes I do have their tiny christening booties/shoes in their keepsake boxes.
Oh yes! I almost forgot about all the bronzed shoes! We didn’t do that in our family but they were all.the.rage!
Old photos are interesting, one thing that stands out is how thin almost everyone was years ago…now it’s the people of Walmart waddling in the candy aisle, plus mobility scooters.
Thanks for popping by and taking the time to comment! I think there are several factors in the old vs new photos debate, but the first that pop up for me are 1) access to more convenience/fast/processed foods in modern times and 2) cameras everywhere vs not intentional photo sessions with our lives being captured and on blast all.the.time. I love looking back on old photos with full knowledge that they’re each just a tiny sippet of what was happening.