When my feet were barely bigger;
Than the dolls with which I played;
I can remember trying shoes on;
That for me were just not made.
Everyone would smile and say,
“Your mom you’ll be just like.”
I would hide behind my pigtails,
Anxious and filled with fright.
I didn’t want to fit those shoes,
And have a bill to pay.
I didn’t want to go to work,
What seemed like everyday.
Who’d have ever wanted,
To do what grown-ups do?
So that if we were poor,
Or lacked, or want as a child I never knew.
Those days ago I failed,
To appreciate this gift,
But now I smile when it occurs,
And gives my heart a lift.
My body has grown older,
And a part of me grown wise.
Although it took these many years,
I’ve come to realize;
As I stand here in your shoes;
And I catch me speak your words;
To be just like my mother;
Is the biggest compliment I’ve heard.
January 22, 2001
