There’s a boy in my son’s class
who wears girls’ shoes.
Next term, we’ve been told,
he is Katie.
My son has no problem with this.
I said: He is Katie?
My son has a new girl friend;
he says she’s funny.
And happy now
she wears girls’ shoes.
Parents stand, all jeans and
coloured t-shirts in the playground
and wait in trainers
for the bell.
I wonder what I’m training for
as Katie and my son
run bursting out
for Mum.
They part to race to me,
to her. She stands,
perhaps in training too, but
wearing sandals and a skirt –
pretty as a flower.
She stands alone, with
Katie in his shorts and shoes.
What does he know?
He waves to my son,
takes her hand
and skips away.
Mum!
You could wear pretty shoes too!
I could.
But it isn’t uniform
and I am in trainers
pretending to learn.
Katie’s mum
moves on
trailing eyes and opinions.
Katie has a friend.
So does my son.
I hope he’s happy
in his shoes.
© 2011 Andie Davidson
From the new collection Realisations.
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