The Little Green Shoe

I have sitting on my dresser a little green ceramic shoe shaped like a Dutch wooden shoe.  It is tiny and has a chip and a crack at the top edge.  It is painted delicately and has a symbol and “Germany” on the bottom.  I have no idea how old it is.  It belonged to my grandmother who was born in 1890.  I have had it since I was about 13 years old, and I remember exactly how I acquired it.

 

My mother’s parents died in 1957 and 1958.  Grandpa passed first, followed by Grandma a year later.  She said her heart was broken when she lost him, and she spent that last year in a steady decline. One of my uncles who did not live locally came for her funeral and stayed afterward.  He went through the family home and sorted, organized, and discarded.  After this huge effort on his part, the family gathered and, with no arguments, items were divided among the 4 siblings.

 

I sat at the kitchen table with my mother and her sisters-in-law.  Before us were spread out all the knickknacks from the house.  One by one the items on the table were chosen by the ladies.  I was overwhelmed with sadness as I watched.  I felt as if my grandparents’ home, which held so many happy memories for me, was disintegrating before my eyes.  Just as the little green shoe was held up for selection, one of my aunts noticed my facial expression.  She declared, “Ruthie wants that!”  The truth was that I had no desire for it or anything else on the table.  What good was any of it without my grandparents?  But, everyone agreed that I must want it and should have it.

 

So for nearly sixty-four years, the little ceramic shoe has been on my dresser as I moved from place to place.  I am glad that I have it, not because it is a handy place to keep safety pins or a stick of lip balm, but for the memory of my grandmother who read to me and sang to me and called me a pet name not used by anyone else.

 

Someday my knickknacks will be dispersed.  I hope no one thinks the little chipped and cracked ceramic shoe is worthless.