In 500... (or less)

A Mile in Some Ragged Shoes

No postmark, no stamp, no return address. The letter was written in the hand of my late father. 

It mentioned things from my childhood only my father would have known. In it, my father implored me to find his old wristwatch, wind it, and tap on the face three times. God, where did I put that thing?

I found the watch after driving my wife crazy tearing apart the attic. I wound it and set the time, surprised that it still worked. Then I tapped on the face three times.

There was searing pain behind my eyes, I squinted hard and clenched my fists. When I opened my eyes, I was, well, I wasn't sure where I was.

"Hey Donnie," I heard a voice, "are you alright?" Donnie was what my uncle called my dad. I looked in the direction of the voice, shocked to see my uncle, only about 10 years old, coming toward me.

"You alright, Donnie? That was quite a wallop you took. Be more careful."

I was on my grandparent's farm. My grandmother summoned my uncle to bring in some coal.

"It's Donnie's turn!" he yelled back. Somehow I knew it wasn't. 

"Is not!" I shouted almost instinctively. "It's Harry's turn!"

"I don't care whose turn it is," my grandmother said patiently. "Why don't you help each other and bring it in together?" Fat chance. I didn't know why I was fighting with my uncle, but there we were. Being older, he won. 

"Now wash up for dinner," my grandmother said to me. It smelled good, fresh baked bread.

I turned my nose up as we each received a slice of the bread, only to have it soaked in coffee.

"Coffee soup," my Aunt Carolyn groaned. "Again." I heartily agreed with the sentiment. And stewed lentils to boot.

I drifted off to sleep that night, so immersed in this experience that I felt like I was Donnie.

"Come along, boys," I heard my grandmother's lilting voice say, "you'd better get started or you'll miss the bus."

I put on my shoes, my dad's shoes, or at least what might pass for shoes. I snapped a rubber band around the middle to hold the sole of the right shoe on. I suddenly remembered rolling my eyes at my dad's tales of how poor they were growing up. 

There was about five inches of snow on the ground. 

"Yeah! Snow day! No school!"

My aunts and uncles looked at me like I was a lunatic.

"You wish, Donnie," Harry said. "You know they never cancel school on account of the weather."

A mile and half later (by God, it was mostly uphill), we crammed onto a frozen bus. If there was a heater, it didn't work.

Another long walk home which was mostly downhill (so at least that part was an exaggeration), met at home with a hearty helping of coffee soup and lentils. Yum.

I awoke that night with a start.

"You ok?" It was my wife. Where was I?

The next morning, there was another letter.

"Hope you enjoyed the experience. It's what made me the father I was, just like your experiences shape you as a father. Pass the watch down to your son." - Donnie.