Dear Giraffe Print Work Boots,
It was a long and rainy winter, and I was in a brand-new town, trying to get my bearings on a brand-new life. I had a pair of black wellies that were plenty well broken in, and were getting a ton of use. But the black boots, and the constant gray skies, and the ever-present puddles in the parking lot of my scary little apartment complex just made for a kind of depressing experience in the mornings, when I left for work, and in the evenings when I got home. I needed something…different. So, I did what a lot of women I know do when they get into a funk. I went out and bought some new shoes.
You weren’t the first pair I looked at. The cherry blossoms and the houndstooth both called out to me, for different reasons. I’ve never been really into animal prints, so you were the last thing on my mind. However, because I have really big feet, neither of my top choices fit. But you did. And I thought about just going home, and going back to my plain old black boots, and keeping the $15 in my bank account. I walked back and forth in the store, trying to decide if I was really going to pick up a pair of rain boots, or if I was just going to go back to my little apartment and watch another Netflix marathon of Arrested Development. It was one of those days when making the simple decision of whether or not to buy a pair of new rain boots felt heavy and silly, all at the same time. It’s funny how those feelings sometimes seem to go together.
And so, I bought you. Something that was so unlike me, so contrary to my “style”, so loud and…cheery. For a while, I only wore you when it rained. Now, I seem to find all sorts of reasons to put you on…mowing the lawn, working in the garden, weeding flower beds, and sometimes remembering to check the mailbox when it’s soggy, outside. I wonder what the neighbors must think, as they drive by, seeing this tall girl in her front yard garden, in shorts spattered with paint and church trip t-shirt and purple bandana in her hair, sporting these crazy giraffe print boots. I wonder what the school kids on the other side of my back fence think about the crazy married lady mowing her lawn with a “Leave it to Beaver” style reel-mower and barking dog. I hope they know I’m happy– that I wear you and stink you up, and get you muddy, and stomp all around the place as an expression of that happiness. Because I am. And because I do.
I owe you a good scrubbing with some baking soda and soapy water.