Father’s Day: In Memory of The Late Eddie Lee Smith, Jr.

s h o e s

by
Lee Eric Smith

They were low-cut Chuck Taylors
My father’s shoes.
Made of canvas and rubber and
Not known for their arch support,
But strangely comfortable
Even when worn without socks.

Sometimes I would slip them on
Just because they were there.
Embarrassed that they fit so well,
Teased by my friends because
I had big feet.

I was tall like my father
So I explained
That a big man requires
Big feet to stand on and
Big shoes to stand in
And I was not ashamed.

After my father left for heaven,
I stood at his closet and
Looked at his shoes
And wondered if they would slip on as easily
As they had in my youth.

I was disappointed and relieved
To find they were familiar but uncomfortable;
That the miles he walked in them
Were behind both of us
With worn soles not meant to be reworn.

Yet as I slipped them off
I cried
As I looked down and realized:
I do not have to fill my father’s shoes
For I have inherited his feet.