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remembering mama |
I am sure my mama had shoes, but I don't remember her ever wearing them when I was a young child. I do remember her dancing and telling us about things like the Charleston and her and daddy doing the Rumba together. Those days are like a dream to me, her bare feet shuffling and stepping across the old worn kitchen linoleum, as the old record player scratched out Big Band 1940's. Sometimes she would bend and do the twist. These thoughts bring a tear. Only me and mama know why. I feel selfish and lazy knowing she went without so I could have shoes for school. I turn up my stereo loud and dance barefoot. I hope she knows I am thankful. |