These are all of my wedding shoes. For better or worse, I decided that since they’d been in a bin in the basement for so long, and were kinda moldy, I’d take a photograph of them, and then say good-bye.
Good-bye, wedding-dress pumps. You made me tall enough so that we didn’t have to have my mother’s wedding dress hemmed. No small thing, considering it had (and still does) a hoop skirt with about a 30-foot circumference. And you were so small (size 5, right?), little girls happily played dress-up in you a few years later. I didn’t wear you for very long that big day, because our wedding lasted 19 minutes, according to Mr. Martin, who congratulated us on having the shortest ceremony he’d ever been to. And as soon as you and I got back to Gigi’s house, I changed into my going-away sling-backs.
Good-bye, going-away slings. What a lovely old-fashioned tradition we shared. Remember walking me down my mother’s staircase, with me wearing a beautiful woolen suit and a going-away corsage? And you with a matching clutch? Kisses and best wishes! And Mama handed me a picnic basket with a little bottle of champagne and two wedding-cake petit fours, for when we got to the hotel. At least you got to go on the honeymoon, and then to work with me. But then “for every child, a shoe-size” happened about a year later.
And good-bye, satin slippers of my trousseau. You perfectly completed the long and flowing peignoir sets that my mother chose for me, with tears in her eyes. You didn’t step out very often, but you did go to the hospital with me, one chilly October afternoon. And you and I walked down the hospital hallway together, to peek in on a perfect little daughter.
The shoes don’t make the man. They make the woman.
ginnygram 
Well my friend…..you made me misty. Who knew 3 pairs of shoes could convey the tale of a woman’s life from wedding to childbirth? Nice.
T.
That’s the nicest “good-bye” I’ve heard in a long time.
My daughter, you brought tears to my eyes too. I sat here remembering with you!