Leather and Laces

     My mother's favorite shoes are beat up. Look at the bulges on the interior sides; they were created from bunions on her feet.
     Mom doesn't want new shoes. This pair still works. She's elderly, having grown up during The Great Depression. People from that generation are frugal. They're less apt to throw stuff away.
     The laces are tattered and short. They string through only two eyelets. Tying shoes is a hassle for her. Being 89 years old makes the task even harder.
     She won't buy new laces unless they match the color of her shoes. Greenish-tan laces are impossible to find. I patronized several stores without success.
     Yesterday she visited friends for lunch. She wore black shoes because they're not ugly like the greenish-tan ones. I sensed an opportunity in her change of routine. Unbeknownst to her, I strung new laces, brown in color, through the eyelets of her beat up shoes.
     I wasn't sure how she'd react to the new laces. They didn't match the color of the shoes. If she become upset, I'd string the tattered laces back on.
     This morning she entered the kitchen. I was sitting at a table. It blocked my view of her feet.
     When she wasn't looking, I leaned over the side. My movement was slow and discrete.
     Her feet came into sight. Well, part of her feet. She was wearing those favorite shoes. But only the tips were visible. Her pants blocked out everything else including the laces. Was she wearing the new pair?
     I kept leaning as she walked. She wasn't aware of my attention. The hem of her pants shifted. A brown lace appeared.
     Yes! I straightened myself, said nothing, and ate breakfast.
     I have another thing to be grateful for on Thanksgiving.