My grandmother repaired the sandals I was too embarrassed to wear

Dear Delyara, I am nineteen and home from university. Last year, Grandma mailed me a pair of sandals she repaired herself because I mentioned mine had broken. They were old-fashioned, brown leather with visible stitching. I thanked her and never wore them. I bought cheap new ones instead because I did not want people on campus asking why my shoes looked handmade. Grandma asked twice whether they fit. I said yes. Today, I found her sitting outside repairing another pair of shoes, her fingers moving slowly because arthritis has made them stiff. I put on the sandals she sent. The stitching is uneven but strong. She looked down and smiled before pretending she had not noticed. We walked to the shop together. She walks slowly now, and for once I did not care what my shoes looked like. On the way back, she said, “You walk well in them.” That was all. I nearly told her I had been ashamed. I could not. Maybe one day I will. Tonight, I cleaned the leather and placed them beside my bed. University taught me plenty this year. My grandmother apparently had to teach me that being loved by hands that repair what you cannot afford to replace is not something to hide under a desk.