A Gift

Ten year old Bobby crept to the back door, crouching low, so he couldn't be seen from the window as he passed by it. Carefully, he turned the knob and cracked the door open enough so that he could see inside the kitchen. His mother sat at the kitchen table, her head bent over a pad of paper, a pen between her fingers, tapping against her head. The worried frown on her beautiful face told him what she was doing.

Once a week, his mother made of list of how much money they had to pay the bills with. She usually did this on Friday when she got paid. Whatever was left over, she would buy groceries and other necessities they needed. There was barely enough left for food, so his mother made a game of naming new recipes, to get him to eat whatever they had. “Corn-legged Dogs” was his favorite, they had those on Saturday night with coleslaw.

Bobby slid down the clapboard wall of the house, and sat cross-legged on the porch floor. He stared at the flapping sole of his old tennis shoe, then stuck his finger inside to see if his sock was wet. It wasn't, but it was pretty dirty. He had been climbing the apple tree down by the barn, playing his usual game of paratrooper, pretending he could fly, when his shoe got caught between two branches. When he pulled hard enough to release the shoe from the grip of the tree, the sole of his shoe tore almost all the way off. Only an inch or so remained glued to the upper portion of the shoe now.

He pulled his feet under him, so he didn't have to look at the mess he had made. If only he hadn't climbed that gnarly old tree today, his shoe would still have the bottom on it and he could walk without a limp or tripping over it. He closed his eyes and made a fist with both hands, thinking of away he could fix it, without worrying his mother. He wished that he had some glue, that would work.

The door opened and his mother came out on the porch, “Why are you sitting out here honey? I was coming down to the barn to call you to supper. Is everything okay, Bobs?”

He grinned sheepishly and looked up her, nodding his head, “Just..resting. That's all.”

“Okay honey, get washed up, we're having 'Noodles 'Al Franco' tonight.” she touched the top of his blond curls and went in the house, smiling.

Bobby slowly stood up, and leaned over to look at his shoes after she went in. Maybe if he walked very slow, it wouldn't make any noise and his mother wouldn't notice. He took a practice step, almost tripping over the flap that turned underneath his foot. Hiking his pants up, he tried again. This time it worked, he managed to walk and keep the flap from turning under, with a sliding motion.

He opened the door and saw his mother at the sink, with her back to him. Quickly, he took off both shoes and slid them under a chair, one they didn't use. Skipping down the hall to the bathroom, he felt quite proud of himself. At least it would give him more time to think about it, before he had to tell his mother the news. He would rather go without supper, than have to tell her how he had ruined his shoe. But his tummy was growling so loud, he thought he better eat first, and tell her after they had eaten.

Seated at the table, he played with his fork, tapping it against the plate.

“Are you playing a new tune, honey? I don't think I've heard that one before,” his mother said with a wink.

Bobby looked up at her with a questioning stare, placing his fork on the table very quietly. Normally, she would tell him to quit making the noise, because he could break the plate. She was grinning down at him and seemed happier than he had seen her in a long time. A twinkle in her eyes told him she had a secret.

“Here you go,” she told him as she sat the bowl of noodles with penny sized franks and herbed ketchup on the table. She added garlic and basil to give it a little zest.

Bobby reached for a bread stick, buttered bread rolled up tightly. Dipping it into the sauce and stuffing it into his mouth so that his cheeks puffed out, the fresh bread stuck to his teeth. His mother laughed at the sight of her son enjoying his meal.

With only one more bite left on his plate, Bobby began to worry. It was getting closer to the time he would have to fess up and tell his mother about the shoe. He pushed the last piece of noodle around his plate, making smiley faces in the sauce with it.

“Bobs, you want to tell me what's on your mind now?” his mother asked. She leaned toward him, with her chin resting on her hand.

His bright blue eyes shot toward her, then quickly back to the drawing on his plate. A tear wavered on his lid and he sat up straight to wipe it against his sleeve. “I..uh..my shoe broke.” he finally answered. There, he said it. His little heart pounded against his chest and he wanted to cry. But he was too big to cry now, he just didn't want to see the disappointment on his mother's face. Something else to buy, and it was all his fault.

His mother's hand reached over and took his, “Bobs, the shoes were old. It was time for them to break. We'll get you a new pair tomorrow.”

He couldn't believe his ears. What did she say? He stared at her with his mouth open. Suddenly his fork fell on the plate with a loud clang and he jumped back in his chair.

“It's not your fault honey, don't worry about it. Besides, I have some good news for you.” she told him.

Bobby didn't know what to do, be happy that she wasn't disappointed, or the fact that she had good news. He looked up at her expectantly, “What news?”

“Well, I got a new job today. It's in the same building as my old job, but a different company. It pays a lot better, so we won't have to worry quite so much anymore. I'm glad those ugly old shoes broke, honey. I can't wait to go buy you a new pair. Come on, let's leave the dishes and go buy you some shoes right now.” she told him.

The biggest smile he had ever seen was covering her face. Slowly his lips spread wide and he smiled back at her. She grabbed him and hugged him to her.

Later that night, Bobby sat on his bed with his new shoes beside him. He didn't remember ever having a pair quite so nice, not even for Christmas. He ran his hand down inside of one to feel the thick insole. He flipped back on the bed and held the shoe over him. Now he could run as fast as the other boys in his class. He got up and placed the shoes back in the box, putting them beside the bed so he would see them first thing in the morning.

Bobby shut off the light and pulled the covers up around his chin, thinking about the way his mother giggled and squeezed his hand in delight, when he tried the shoes on in the store. Her eyes were so bright and full of happiness, he could still see them now in the dark of his room.

He loved his new shoes a lot, but he thought his mother was even happier than he was. It seemed that she was the one that had really gotten a gift, the gift of giving.