I don’t like country music. I don’t like country themed rooms. I don’t like countries.
That last one might not be as true.
I think it’s great that country music and southern culture is a part of people’s lives. It just never struck a cord with me. However, when asked to close my eyes and imagine a place where I’m most calm and happy, I end up thinking of a field out in the country with an old house and a wrap-around porch. Maybe some horses hanging out outside and some oinkies too.
This week I’ll be visiting Colorado, for the first time, for a family trip. My mom mentioned that maybe while we’re out there I could get some cowgirl boots. I’ve never been inclined to buy cowgirl boots and frankly, I don’t think they’d fit over my meaty calves, BUT when she mentioned this, I was struck with a memory from the 3rd grade. My mom had taken me to buy saddle shoes (the kind you see at a 1950’s sock hop, because that is how I chose to express myself at eight) and there on a shelf were the most BEAUTIFUL cowgirl boots I had ever seen.
They were white, with a dark brown heel, and had 3 balloons on them. One red, one yellow, one blue.
My mom said I would never wear them and so we didn’t get them. *lays on top of 40-foot shoe pile* I had no idea what she was talking about.
I’ll know my life has meaning if I find those boots again. Preferably in my size. With extra-wide calves.
Maybe some day, when I’m laying with the oinkies, and the horsies, and maybe even some chickies, in a field with my big house and wrap-around porch out back, (
I’ll figure out how avoid making run-on sentences) I’ll look down at my feet and they will be blessed with my sweet little balloon boots.