Of Shoes and Ships and Dead BalloonsPosted: August 2, 2014
The Daily Prompt: Odd Trio Redux
The balloons dangled at the end of strings taped to the picnic table and benches, lifeless and wrinkled, sad in their deflation.
I began to clean up the mess still left from yesterday’s birthday party. At least it wasn’t windy last night.
I hummed softly to myself as paper plates and half-empty cups filled the trash can beside me. Under the table, a slice of cake fed the ants, frosting side down. I hate ants. I improvised tongs from one of the plates to retrieve it. A single blade of grass was trapped in the buttercream.
With all the trash swept out of sight, I spun slowly to verify that all was as it should be. A sparkle caught my eye as I turned, and I paused to squint in its direction. I couldn’t tell what it was.
A pair of flip flops, rhinestoned almost to unwearability, seemed purposefully placed under the sycamore tree, as if for display. Right heel atop left heel at a sixty degree angle. I cocked my head at them in an instant of confusion. Had someone with such large, gaudy feet attended last night’s trailer park gala?
The shoe dilemma remained. I wondered if I should place them at the end of my driveway and hope for the best.
They do sparkle prettily.
Suddenly my grandmother spoke in my head. Ancient in her wisdom, she reminded me to waste not, want not. I remember visiting her when I was younger, for an extended stay, and using the best plates and napkins for a Wednesday dinner of casserole. I remember being told to go ahead and use those decorative soaps in the bathroom, they’re soap, girl, that’s what they’re for. I remember finding a coffee table on the side of the road, and us taking it home to paint and polish and display.
The flip flops were a gift, and so I slipped them on my feet.
I felt lighter and sparklier already.