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Retail Therapy: Pink Shoes

My older daughter, Elizabeth is graduating from college this month, and I’m in a spin…

This is so different from high school graduation, after which we still had the prospect of a school calendar’s allowance for family vacations and visits. But when she leaves college and starts her job in NYC, that’s over. She’ll be like the rest of the working world, with two weeks vacay a year, and perhaps an inclination to spend that precious time with people other than her parents.

There are many layers to my feelings about this transition, and I’m trying to address them in a mature way: I’m going shopping. Luckily, Elizabeth is willing to let me help supply wardrobe for her upcoming Campus Dance, so I had an excuse to spend a Sunday afternoon in pursuit of pink shoes. Thanks to technology, Elizabeth and I embarked on a virtual shopping spree. I went to the mall and photographed all the pink shoes I could find, sending her the pics to look at in Providence. We chatted about the pros and cons of Shoe A and Shoe B, and finally settled on a winner.

I can’t tell you how happy this made me; there is no underestimating the benefits of retail therapy. But also I know that, no matter how painful it is that Elizabeth will be so far away, technology will provide the means for a good, old-fashioned mother-daughter mall stroll, and that is some consoloattion indeed. (P.S. The glittery shoe was the pick.)


4 Responses
  1. You have a really cool blog here. You rock!!!

  2. Susan Staebell says:

    Actually – I loved the shoes you were wearing in the reunion pictures. Shoe shopping is good for whatever ails you!

  3. Jean Franken says:

    Well, the glittery ones were my favorite even before I knew they were the final pick. However, I know you are making up the part about E. graduating from college and going to New York for a job. This is simply not possible. It is no more possible than my hitting a certain decade of my life last week. Nope, nope, nope….E. is 6 years old and I am newly turned 40. Just like you. Love, Jean

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