Wednesday, February 17, 2010

sad shoe woes

Dear New Black Boots,

You were beautiful 3 weeks ago when I purchased you from Macy's. That night I needed shoe-therapy, and found you, waiting patiently on the stand, calling to me. The last pair in my size. Your heel was just the right size- not too tall, but just tall enough. Pure, shiny black boots, not yet scuffed on the toes.

And I waited, all those days in the snow, waiting to wear you, while I was shoveling snow and wearing hiking boots. Waiting, but thinking of you.

And now,

now,

You are covered in salt. No longer pure black. You've developed white chicken-pox covered in sand. Your toes are not just scuffed, but scrapped clean to reveal what's underneath.
In one day you went from beautiful, shinny, black boots to scuffed, salt & sand well-worn boots.
All from one day of kiss and ride duty. From dodging the school buses trying to weave their way through the narrow, snow lined parking lot. From walking up and down the heavily salted sidewalk, escorting children safely from the top of the parking lot down to the school, and then making the reverse walk in the afternoon. From bending down to zip up children's coats in the icy snow puddles. From navigating the obstacle course of snow piles, running from car to car, trying to figure out who they are looking for, or trying to convince parents to trust our snow plan.

I've let you down, boots. I bought you promising to keep you clean and beautiful, new, and because I wore you too soon I've ruined you. I know, I wasn't thinking when I put you on, when I knew full well what our parking lot looked like. Perhaps my cabin fever lead me to make poor shoe decisions.
But I am sorry, boots. I am sorry, and I am mourning your loss.
Mrs. Lipstick

1 comment:

Mark said...

What, no pictures?

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