this is an ode to my boots

In 2010, I walked into Famous Footwear, not believing that true love was possible with a pair of boots. Sure, I had seen other people with boots in love. Whether they had high heels, no heels, zippers on the side or back, whatever color they were... many people had found the boots that were just right for them. But not me. I had tried on boots before, sure, but sparks never flew. We never had that instant connection. There just wasn't that chemistry there that told me that those were the boots I should be with forever. Until that fateful day I decided to give love with boots another try. I walked in that door at Famous Footwear, and there they were. Knee high, perfect shade of buttery brown fake leather, with an understated distressed gold buckle on the side, and a cheeky red zipper up the back. Putting them on was like meeting an old friend. We were meant to be together. The certainty of this knowledge made purchasing the boots one of the easiest decisions I ever made. I knew our relationship would be long, and lasting.

The instant love connection I had felt at the store was what held us together for those first few weeks. I would look at them in my closet, and feel nervous about slipping them on my feet. I wasn't sure how public I wanted to take the relationship in the beginning. The boots made a "clip clop" noise while I walked, and I was sure everyone would mistake me for a person who fell in love with a pair of heels. Finally, for fear of making my boots think I was leading them on, I wore them to school, and just walked very carefully, so as not to attract too much attention. This seemed to work. As I wore them, I became more and more confident. Those cheeky-red-zippered boots and I could not be stopped! We accepted compliments graciously, and attracted those of the male species we didn't really want! We walked through puddles and came out triumphant! We even came to love the little scuff marks at the tips of our perfectly rounded, pointy toes.

A year later, I noticed something was changing about my boots. They seemed a little tired. Our love was just as strong, if not ten times stronger than the day we had met. But the boots were feeling worn down. They felt taken for granted. Sure, they knew I loved them, but I think that sometimes they hoped I would love them a little less. It was when I noticed that the whole back half of the heel on my boot had rubbed off, that I knew something had to be done. I called my mother, nearly in tears, begging her to let me take them to the shoe repair shop. Two weeks later, the deed was done, and my boots had a proud new heel. They were strong again, and our relationship was mended. I told a girl in one of my classes the story of mending the boots and she said, "Why didn't you just buy new boots?" To which I replied by covering up my boots ears, and giving her the best stink eye I could muster.

Another year has passed with much love and laughter. I feel as though our relationship could be eternal... if it wasn't for the fact that now the rest of the sole of the boots is falling apart. They sit there sadly, bottoms falling apart, but that creamy fake leather still blissfully in tact, with the red zipper anxiously awaiting being zipped up. Do I still love them? Yes, I believe so. Do I still wear them? Yes, how could I not? We've been through so much! Should I get them fixed, or should I break up with them and find a new pair? That is the question.

p.s. this is apparently what I think about when I'm at home sick.