Throwback Thursday: The House Shoes

It's fall, which is one of my favorite times of year, not because the leaves turn colors and fall from the trees (not many trees around here to do that) or because I like pumpkin anything, because I don't really care for many pumpkin foods. But it's because in the morning, it's so cool and crisp and by the afternoon it's generally warm enough and with abundant sunshine that it's the perfect mix of days. And in the mornings when I have the house to myself, I'll usually be found sitting at my desk sipping hot tea and wearing a pair of fuzzy socks. I'll be honest, I pretty much detest shoes. I'm either in a pair of flip-flops, barefoot, or if the weather's cool, fuzzy socks. And that's how I am this morning, cup of tea and pink fuzzy socks, working on getting my brain fired up to do some work.

As I sat here trying to figure out what I wanted to write about, the train that goes through the center of town--or what was once the center of town--and that you can hear for quite away reminded me of the train by my grandmother's house. I know I've mentioned it before but there seems to be no memory of my grandmother's house that does not include the sound of the train passing by or us stuck waiting for the train to pass so we could cross the tracks to get to her house or so we could leave from her house.

But today's not about the train, it's about the shoes, house shoes to be exact. Whereas I like to run around barefoot at home, my grandmother always had a pair (or six) of house slippers that she wore around the house and outside. I know that at some point they were certainly brand new, and I recall when I was older that my parents would buy her new house slippers, but the ones I remember most were the softly worn ones that had walked back and forth across the house from the bedroom to the kitchen and from the kitchen to the outside utility area to the washer and dryer and back again in circles all over the house and yard. And for some reason I only seem to recall those shoes in a light blue color; maybe that was her favorite color? They were the type of house slippers that didn't have the toes covered--they were open. And her perfectly colored red toenails peaked out over the top.

They looked kind of like this when brand new:

This image is not mine; I claim no copyright and it can be found here. 

They may or may not have been ribbed like this, but you get the general idea, except now imagine that they have been worn most days and they have been broken in to the point that they are still comfortable. Those would be my grandmother's house shoes.

It's weird to me, especially as I write this, to think of the simple things--house shoes and her painted red toe nails--that I seem to recall about my grandmother the most. Although there are also scents; it's weird how the nose has a memory, too, but that's for another day.

I'm off to enjoy my fuzzy sock day; enjoy yours in your house shoes, if you've got them, or your fuzzy socks, rain boots, tennis shoes, or high heels.

¡Hasta la proxíma vez!