The stuff that gets left behind

I found a pair of my mom’s old school shoes today.  She probably had to wear them for school, like for a uniform or something.  But maybe because they’re old, maybe because they were hers, they’re cool.  I could probably eBay ‘em for a few quid.  They fit me, though.

I mostly remember her smile.  She smiled a lot when I was little, called me Amelita, though in her Welsh accent it always sounded like a hiccup: Amel-IT!-a.  She loved the Beatles and pork chops and was always trying to stick flowers in her hair, though they generally fell out.

I never met Taid and Nain while the folks were still kicking.  She always said we’d visit, but we never did.  And then she’d stop talking about it at all, like there was something bad waiting for her in Wales.

There’s nothing bad here.  There’s nothing.