Goodbye Boots
The ChickieNob loves to borrow my shoes. We’re almost the same size, so she often comes along with me when I’m purchasing new shoes in order to give her opinion and steer purchases towards things she’ll want to take from my closet in the near future. She also constantly checks on existing shoes to see if they fit better. (I’m a size larger.) One of those pairs of shoes are my knee-high boots.
The boots are the ones I wore to BlogHer for the Voices of the Year performance. You can see the boots in the beginning of the video.
My sister convinced me to purchase them. They were awesome boots. I loved wearing them.
Loved being the operative term.
The ChickieNob asked if she could try on the boots. “Of course,” I said. She went to pull them off the shelf and commented that they felt “stuck.” I wasn’t sure how the boots could be stuck, so I reached down and yanked them. The leather adhered to the shelf, leaving a large hole in the side of the boot. The leather was cracked in other places and peeling away. All in all, it looked as if someone had poured acid over the boot. (No one, by the way, poured acid over the boot. I have no clue how this happened because nothing could have gotten onto the shelf.)
The ChickieNob was heartbroken, but we were running errands the next day. I would get a new pair of knee-high boots.
I tried on a few pairs, settling on a relatively inexpensive one that resembled my original boots except that the toe is pointy instead of square. The ChickieNob tried them on, too, and declared them excellent. Mischief managed.
There was zero reason to keep the original, ripped up boots, but I found it very hard to say goodbye to them. I took a photo so I could remember them, and then gently lowered them into the trash. The Wolvog watched with amusement. “Hard to let go?” he asked.
Yes, little man, it’s hard to let go because those shoes weren’t daily sneakers that you wear out and move on to the next pair. They were lifetime shoes; shoes you purchase and make memories in over the years. Those shoes have been to weddings and Bat Mitzvahs. The White House and my friend’s house. They’ve saved me on numerous occasions when I didn’t have time to shave my legs. They were a great pair of boots, and I assumed they would be there forever.
Thank you, boots, for being so awesome for so long.
8 comments
It sounds like those boots had quite a life. I have a hard time parting with things like that. It’s the memories. ❤️
Footwear like this is priceless. I’m so sorry you had to say goodbye sooner than expected and intended.
Ahhh that sucks. I at first thought you were going to write that they fit Chickienob so perfectly you would never get them back, but this is so much worse!
I have had some sad shoes being ruined and it sucks. I have also moved homes and somehow ended up with missing matches. I have flip flops from Simple from before they stopped making shoes for a while where my puppy chewed one shoe, and I have kept the other shoe because I just couldn’t toss it.
The worst is all the awesome shoes I had to get rid of after my first baby because my foot grew. I had some great docs that would never fit again.
This post is very timely, as you probably posted it around the time my husband was going through his clothes, and throwing a whole lot out. He found things he’d forgotten he had, and it was easy for him. I realised that he had no emotional connection to his clothes or shoes whatsoever. That however is not me.
Good shoes are definitely hard to let go. I blister easily, and struggle to find shoes that are comfortable and look good. So I get attached to shoes that are both. I get it.
I am so sorry for the loss of your boots — I get it. Some things have seen so many pieces of your life and you think that they will always be there to remind you of those moments. I also thought that Chickie Nob was going to steal the boots and they were going to go on to another chapter, I didn’t expect the mortal wound! I have a skirt that I wore on my first date with Bryce, and it is definitely not flattering anymore but I can’t bear to donate it. It’s more than just a skirt to me. My condolences on the loss of your beautiful boots!
I remember those boots!! & I totally understand why they’d be so hard to let go. I have a hard time letting go of certain pieces of clothing too… in fact, I have a Rubbermaid bin in the storage locker downstairs full of “keepsake clothing” I can’t quite part with. Glad you found an acceptable replacement.
I have irrational attachments to many items of clothing, including things that belonged to my dad (who died in 1991). Sorry about your boots. 🙁
My kid has already surpassed me in foot size. She can sort of wear my shoes but they’re a little too small. We’re within about a half size of each other.
Ahhh….I’m sad for you and your boots. They are more than boots. They are experiences and relationships and even something you wanted to share with your daughter.
I went to a cowboy-themed fundraiser late in the summer and got out some boots (not too cowboy-y) I’d gotten in college. They were quality boots and I’d kept them in good condition. However, my feet have grown about a half size. They hurt like hell and I will never ever put them on again. But I’m having trouble parting with them. Not sure what to do with them. Sigh…I didn’t know you were having boot issues at the same time.