Grandfather's Shoe

You are cleaning out your grandfather’s closet and find an old shoe of his. Tell a story about it.

GRANDFATHER’S SHOE

What a distasteful job, cleaning out a man’s closet, and to make matters worse, it’s my grandfather’s closet.

It didn’t help any when grandmother suddenly died two years ago. She was as healthy as a horse and one day grandfather called me and says, “Grandmother died during the night. Please come help me.” So off I went too help him take care of all those arrangements and to pack up grandmother’s clothing and stuff.

Now he had died and here I am again. I made all his funeral arrangements, packed up his clothing and am now cleaning out his closet. Another hour and I should be through. I continue packing the rest of his clothes from the floor and run across an old shoe. It looks like a track shoe with a high, over-the-ankle high top. I wasn’t sure if grandfather had ever been on a track team, let alone to have kept only one old shoe. I quickly pulled everything out of the closet but there was no matching shoe. “I wonder why there is only one old shoe,” I remarked aloud as I held it up.

“Because he lost the other one,” the shoe said as I became alarmed and dropped it.

“Be careful, man, I want to still live on,” the shoe said.

“Sorry,” I replied. “But shoes cannot talk.”

“Well, my dear, I am talking and I can tell you all about that wonderful old fellow,” the shoe said.

“O.K. you just tell me about his track team,” I said. “I didn’t know he was on a track team.”

“Oh yes. He was a great runner. You would have been proud of him. He ran as if his life depended on it and he jumped those hurdles without knocking any of them over, ever,” the shoe stopped talking and sighed, “He was a great man.”

“I know he was a great man. He was my grandfather, you know,” I said rather disrespectfully.

“I know,” went on the old shoe. “But I could tell you things about him that would curl your hair,” then it gave what sounded like an old laugh.

I went about picking up the rest of the items I had dragged out of the closet and packed them in a box. There were several pencils lying on the closet floor, so I put them on his desk and ran the vacuum in the closet. One more part cleaned, but what should I do with the old shoe? As I looked at it, it seemed like it wanted to talk some more so I said, “Okay, shoe, what do you want to tell me about grandfather?”

“First off, I didn’t like that noisy old machine you used in there. But did either your grandfather or grandmother tell you about how they met?”

“No,” I answered as it carried on.

“It was at the end of a Junior High tournament and his team was way ahead. Into the stands walks the most beautiful young girl he had ever seen and he stopped dead in his tracks, looking at her. Everyone was yelling at him to finish the race and as one of the challengers passed him, he hit your grandfather’s arm and that’s all it took. Your grandfather gave that girl a loving look and ran to the finish line before that challenger was half way there.”

The shoe stopped and I asked, “Is that all?”

“Oh, no! Your grandfather ran back to where you grandmother had been sitting. No sir, she wasn’t there, and he asked everyone nearby where she had gone. They all pointed out of the stands. Poor old grandfather ran to the rear of the stands, but she wasn’t there either.”

The shoe stopped talking and then said, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me for a minute.”

Then the shoe continued, “Your poor old grandfather began to wonder if his mind was snapping. He looked all over for that girl and couldn’t find her. He was very down on himself and when school started again, he went to his Biology class with a heavy heart. He didn’t look at anyone, just thumped down on a seat and scrunched himself down until a pretty little voice said, “That was a great run you did in the tournament, Jake. Glad we won.” Your grandfather sat straight up and looked around to see who had spoken to him and there she was, that beautiful young girl from the stands, sitting next to him.”

The shoe stopped talking again and I let him rest for awhile. Then he said, “Your grandfather gulped and said, ‘Th..th..thank you, Miss.’ And she stuck out her hand and said, ‘My name is Lisa.’ He took her soft small hand and never wanted to let go. Neither one of them heard Mr. Broam enter the room and they both jumped when he said, ‘Are you two done fraternizing, yet?’ The class erupted in a gale of laughter and Mr. Broam made them should stay after class. Yes, sir. They had some great times dating and after high school, he asked Lisa to marry him and she did. They were so happy together and when their only son, John, was born, they were ecstatic and he grew up to become your father. I’m sorry he died so long ago, too.”

The old shoe stopped talking as if thinking and then asked, “Are you going to throw me in that trash bag, too.”

I picked up the old shoe and put in on the bed, then said, “I should say not. I may want to hear more stories about my grandfather, real soon.”

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