Laura, Caddie and I

I was a reader. Voracious. I don't read so much now because I sit and read. All at once. I don't do well stopping at chapters. And my life doesn't have those great blocks of time.
In my elementary school years, Laura Ingalls and Caddie Woodlawn were my heroines. Kinda still are. But I was a tomboy, and I understood their desire to get outside and play. Still do. And I was pretty sure I'd been born in the wrong time. I wanted to be a pioneer girl. My Easter dress in 5th or 6th grade included a pinafore. Mother had made this dress and pinafore, and I could pretend I was a pioneer girl. I still remember the image I had of myself standing confidently in the school yard.
But I didn't have the right shoes. Well, yes, one of those Christmases, I received lace up go go boots, but they were too high up my leg and didn't count. And sneakers just weren't pioneerish.

Many years later, I saw my shoes, practically exactly the ones I imaged so long ago.
I spent the money even though they were a half size too big. I don't remember how much they were. But I was divorced with three children and relying on child support and alimony. I didn't spend much on myself. But I favored myself that day.
They were my dancing shoes. I danced with many men in those. At dances in Utah and Arizona. Dancing was my escape those few years. For 3 hours a night, I danced my cares away. I wore them as a substitute teacher-"They look like witch shoes." "They look like Mary Poppins shoes." I didn't care. I had my pioneer shoes, the kind I'd always wanted.

The heels wore down. I had the tap replaced. I polished them and cared for them.
Then age set in and the pain I nearly always felt began to wear on me. I have to wear good shoes being on my feet all day. I balance comfort and cute so that my back and feet can get me through the day.
My beautiful black hook-and-lace shoes sit in the closet. Sometimes I dust them off to wear to church. If it's a good day, I've laced them up for school. I don't dance so much anymore, and only with my beloved. But I couldn't get rid of my shoes. They meant a childhood memory and self image. They carried me through the dark days of divorce and the aliveness of dancing. Should shoes mean so much? Really?

Then I saw these Saturday evening.
I couldn't walk away; I ordered another pair in olive green online because they were not in the store in my size. They zip (not pioneerish) and the buttons are decorations, but you should feel the leather! I paid enough for very soft, beautiful leather. And comfortable fit. My means have changed, but there is still a little pioneer girl, enough of a tomboy in me, who would really just rather be outside in the sunshine.