I wish that I was the girl who could write a whole post for Sunday Scribblings this week about the pair of knee-high electric-blue stiletto boots that I wore out one night. I'm not that girl. I secretly would love to be her. I was only slightly shocked to look back through my Illustrated Discovery Journal to find lots of pictures of platform shoes and sparkley boots and quirky sexy heels. That's a side to me that I always knew was lurking, but I have never really let out to play.
Before you feel sad for that part, you need to know that I have loved the decisions in my life that have necessitated the need for more stable shoes! In fact, the shoes that I am going to write fondly about are a pair of battered leather boots. I just wanted to let you know that this very practical-dressing, size-10-footed chick has a crazy shoe dream. In fact, during the last scene in Mama Mia I couldn't dance properly to the music - all I could think about was where I could find and then where I could wear BOOTS like that! (Silver sequined platforms if you haven't seen the play!!)
But back to my beloved Roots boots. I bought my boots on a shopping trip in Kingston with my friend Jayne. She had a pair and loved them and rather than being irritated by my apparent copying, she happily walked me to the shop and helped me pick them out! I loved them immediately because of their round toes. When you have size 10 feet you sometimes have to make do with boots that make your feet look big. These lovely round toes and beefy treads made my feet look like a normal size. As soon as I had them on I knew we would be friends for a very long time!
I began to wear my boots nearly every day. I wore them with my costume when I dressed up as a Pioneer (not very authentic, but very comfortable.) I wore them out dancing (in Canada in winter you need to wear something to dance in that will also get you home across the ice!) I wore them when I worked at a summer camp. And when I walked onto the plane to fly to England for the first time, they were on my feet. In fact, every time I fly anywhere I pull out my trusty boots. They have been to Holland, Singapore, England, Scotland, Majorca and Lanzarote. They have been covered in all manner of strange things. They have been my constant companions.
(This is a side note where I say that as I type this the song, 'Boots or Hearts' by the Tragically Hip has begun to play on my Party Shuffle. This line goes: "when it starts to fall apart, it really falls apart. Like boots or hearts oh when they start, they really fall apart." Good timing for the rest of my post.)
I over-pronate. A result of ingrown toenails when I was a kid, I walk with a roll. So sadly, over the years my boots have worn down on the outside of the heel. They no longer feel as stable and secure as they used to. I don't feel like I can take on the world with them on my feet. I have worn them down - used up all of their power. I have been desperately looking for a new pair, but they don't seem to make them anymore. I am deeply saddened by this turn of events.
So now, emboldened by the fact that I have had that relationship once, I am on the hunt for a new pair of magic boots. I don't want them to be sequined or platformed. Magic doesn't really live there. Magic isn't in the flash and the sparkle. Magic is in the relationship. It's in the security and the stability and the support. Magic is in the adventures you have together. I know I will find it again. In the meantime, my old battered black boots sit under my bed. I just can't seem to get rid of them. No, I can't get rid of them - we've been through too much together.