EDDY'S PAGE
by Eddy Robey M.A.

My usual outfit is a dress, apron, and slippers.

My son has listened to me go on about these slippers, happily when the sort I like are plentiful, grumpily if they are in short supply. Recently, there has been a dearth of my preferred footwear.

Last night, he walked in carrying a bag. "I got you some slippers, Mom. They're kinda weird, but your feet will be happy."

I opened it. Inside were two identical slippers: one black, one white.

He described emptying a store rack in search of a pair that would fit me. "There must have been a million, but those were the last two in your size. Hope you don't mind the colors."

Mind them? My heart smiled. I just hugged him, and laughed when he said that he thought perhaps I could dye them.

Not on a bet.

Soon, someone will ring my doorbell. They will probably wonder, "What got into her, wearing two different colored slippers? Gee, I hope she's okay"

I'm more than okay. My son gave me happy feet. I wouldn't change a thing about them or him for the world.