Walk a mile in these shoes

You don’t know me. You don’t know the womb that carried this life, the hands that nurtured it  or the heart that loved me. You don’t know my ABC’s or the Birds and the Bees. You don’t know my scars or bruises, my blessings or my curses.

You don’t know the memories I’ve cherished or the ones best forgotten. You don’t know about my first day of school or my first tooth. You don’t know about my piano recitals or the ballet concerts. You don’t know about the muddy hockey boots or the blistered feet.

You don’t know my hopes or fears. You don’t know the comfort I’ve felt from a friend or the joy of sharing a good laugh. You don’t know my academic achievements or my dedication.

You don’t know the hurt of the tears that stain these cheeks or the whole hearted belly flop laughter that I can produce. You don’t know me with no money and no place to rest my head. You don’t know my biggest disappointments or my greatest testaments.

You don’t know what I believe or what I doubt. You don’t know of my dreams for ‘someday’ or my fear of disappointing those who love me. You don’t know of my heartbreak or my new found loves. You don’t know…so walk a mile in these shoes before you say that you know me.

Picture source: http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs17/f/2007/190/3/7/The_Red_Ballet_Shoe_by_xxkattieer.jpg