New Sole

There's a cute little building covered with asbestos shingles imitating red brick, on the Court Street Bridge in Woonsocket. I have crossed the bridge on foot, watching the smoke curl out of the thin brick chimney. When you look in the window you see gorgeous shoe-repair machines. The sign says Petronuzzi's Shoe Rebuilding. There's a little bald-haired man about 75 years old in a worn apron, hunched over the gorgeous greasy old machines. The other day I walked in with my dog. I took off my worn clog and handed it to him. I wear out my shoes, I said, because I walk everywhere. I see that, he said. I asked him if he could make me a new heel. He said yes. I said okay I have to go home and get my husband's shoes too and come back with my dancing shoes too. I returned with three pairs of shoes and he gave me a purple ticket. They'll be ready Friday morning he said. On Friday I jumped out of bed and walked Honey over to Petronuzzi's with my money. He had rebuilt three pairs of shoes for 20 dollars a pair. My polka-dancing shoes had been completely rebuilt, they were better than new, and shiny and buffed with new black polish! He gave the dancing shoes a new soul! I said thank you so much I am so happy and thank you for letting me bring in my dog. That's okay he said. I said she's the one who needs shoes. In the winter the ice gets into her furry paws. He smiled. Maybe I will design a pair of dog booties that he can make.