Depsite my best (well, ok, half-hearted) attempts to love Phoenix, sometimes it doesn’t happen. But one thing I do adore about this town is how damn small it is — and when you have kids, you discover that over and over, in unexpected ways.

Turns out, Sophie’s teacher’s brother-in-law runs the coolest record store in town.  One of her classmates showed up the first week of school with an assigned bagful of “favorite things,” including a string doll from Frances, one of my favorite boutiques. Turns out, her aunt works there. (I just discovered Maile’s mom Audrey has a wonderful blog, too.)

And it turns out (yes, I am getting to the point here!) that Sophie’s orthopedist, Rick Shindell, is married to one of the city’s best artists, Mary. As I learned during Sophie’s first appointment with him years ago, Rick is an artist as well. He made some gorgeous metal benches that graced the gallery eye lounge, last time I checked. (Hey, I don’t get out much.)

A few years ago, Dr. Shindell (it feels too odd to call him Rick) took part in a show at Made, another of my favorite boutiques, owned by my dear friend Cindy Dach (see? small town!). The show featured all kinds of planters designed by local artists. I have to admit that Dr. Shindell’s made me a little uneasy. He had taken a patient’s cast-off orthopedic device — not a fake leg or anything, just a leg brace — and turned it into a planter.

Clever, but I couldn’t look at it.

I was having trouble seeing beauty in orthotics, given the time we spent in our house in those days, strapping Sophie into them. To me, they were an ugly reminder of weakness; today, I strongly believe those braces are a big reason why Sophie finally walked at 3 and now, at 6 and a half, runs, jumps and (almost) skips.

I have to admit that lately I’ve been neglectful when it comes to making Sophie wear any sort of brace. The other day, I watched Sophie’s ballet class, and noticed that, as her physical therapist has gently observed, her feet still cave in more than a little. She needs new inserts for her shoes; I’ve got to move that up on the “to do” list.

But even without them, she’s super. I’m grateful to both Dr. Shindell and Docras, the PT.

A funny thing happened over the weekend. I was cleaning out Sophie’s closet, and came upon three pairs of outgrown orthotics. Why was I saving them? They seem an odd thing to keep, and yet, an odd thing to toss — after all, she spent years in them, literally. Those braces became a part of her. But Dorcas had mentioned she knows a PT who refurbishes old braces (they cost thousands new and custom-fit) and takes them to kids in Mexico. I put them in a bag to give to her, but before that, I photographed them all for posterity.

And you know what? In their own way, those old braces looked sort of beautiful. Still, I didn’t keep any around to use as planters.