Abby's Shoe

Sometime, your own shoes, like other people’s lives; are not a good fit. ~Abby~

Sipping on my third cup of coffee, I hum at the over sweeten manna from the gods.  Other than being way to hot, I realize I was a little heavy handed with the Baily’s Triple Sweet Cream. Good thing I have my favorite Amaretti Biscotti Cookies to eat while I wait for my coffee to cool.

Sitting by the French patio doors in my bedroom, I see a shoe in my flower bed. Polishing off the last bite of biscotti, I decide to let the landscapers move the shoe. Although I love having a flower bed close to my bedroom patio, I am not too fond of the bees that frequent the fragrant flowers growing there.

Opening the patio doors, I look out at the shoe. From my vantage point, I can see it’s not my shoe or the kids. I am curious as to whose shoe it is. Looking around the yard, I hope this is not an ID TV moment where I find the other shoe on a dead body. I attempt to step further on the patio. In the distance I hear a battle cry as a large bird squawks, then swoops down and picks the shoe up. 

Startled, I jump back into my room quickly pulling the patio doors closed.  Plopping down in my rocking chair, I watch through the window as the bird fly’s away with the shoe.

Sipping my coffee, I wonder if the shoes owner would ever miss the shoe. 

 

~Abby~