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Koty Lapid

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Member Since: Dec, 2004

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   Recent stories by Koty Lapid
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The holiday shoes
By Koty Lapid
Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Copyright © 2004 By Koty Lapid-- It is about a mother's sorrow over loosing touch with her little daughter's life experiences.

I had just finished showering Noa. She was at the age of trying to be independent and to do as many things as she could by herself. So when she asked me to allow her to dry herself with the towel I agreed. She was drying her leg when she straightened up, and asked me: ‘Mom, can you bring me my holiday shoes?'

I shouted back from the living room:‘Can you tell me where to find them?’

Noa called back: ‘They’re in my suitcase, we didn't take them out yet. They’re black.’

I went to her suitcase, which was in the corner of the room and wide open because, during the previous days, we had put a variety of things into it that I had bought for her to take home.

For some weeks I had been in Manhattan, and Noa had joined me just a few days before. When she arrived, she told me about all the things she thought I should know, before unpacking her suitcase, and putting most of her clothes and other things into my closet.

While she slept her first night in my little apartment, before I headed to bed, I took a few moments to stand in front of the closet. I was looking her tiny clothes there, next to my dresses and I felt almost as if I was at home, and we were all together, and I had just finished tidying her closet.

I went to her suitcase, and looked over its contents. There were all those knick-knacks I wanted her to take home, and a pair of black boots that looked like a tiny version of a hiking boot. Then I went to the closet and looked over her shoes. There were sneakers and rain-shoes. Nothing fancy.

I didn't want to ask anymore question; I didn't want her to know I couldn't find her holiday shoes. I went back to the suitcase and looked into it again. There weren't any new items. Just the knick knacks and the tiny, black hiking boots.

Then Noa came in, wrapped in a towel, went to the suitcase and took out the boots, and, with a face of incredulity mixed with a mischievous smile, said: ‘How couldn't you find them, couldn't you see they’re the only holiday shoes here?’

A short while later, I helped to put on her holiday shoes. Then I went to the bathroom and started to cry. It had only been two weeks since I'd seen her, yet things happened without me. Then I wondered, had I been home during that time, would it have been me, instead of my husband, whom Noa would tell that hiking boots had become popular with her and her friends.

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Reviewed by m j hollingshead 2/3/2005
well done
Reviewed by Michelle Kidwell Power In The Pen 12/28/2004
A great write, keep it up...
God Bless
Michelle~




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