I was trying on every single pair of shoes. Heels, sandals, boots. Whatever caught my fancy. While other women navigated around me, glaring and judging, you did not.
Instead, you strolled by casually, stared down at a pair of pink flats I was trying on, and you said with sincerity: “Everything in here looks fantastic on you–how cute!”
You have no idea what those words meant to me. Growing up, I never had a mother to tell me what looked good and what didn’t. No one dressed me up and instead I wore my older brother’s hand-me-downs. No one showed me how to groom myself. No one told me I was pretty, or that I was cute. No one sat me down to tell me that boys can sometimes be silly and that heartbreak can only ever be temporary.
Those words that you said–perfectly ordinary words that any mother might have said to her daughter… they made me feel like a million bucks.