DECEMBER 10 2013: BITTER SWEETNESS
“New shoes today,” the carer said. “Your daughter’s bringing them.”
Ellen remembered the blue kid shoes she’d worn as a child, the button fastener bright as a bird’s eye. Snapshots showed her wearing ballet shoes with satin ribbons. Then came high-heels, the photographs were of Ellen in the front row of a West End chorus line. She sighed, thinking of the shoes she had worn on her wedding day, oyster brocade with tiny pearls.
Later, the carer said, “Here we are dear, nice and roomy for your poor feet.”
The harsh rasp of Velcro tore at Ellen’s her heart.
About the Author
Betty lives and writes in Wolverhampton