It's really about the shoes

I have spent the day doing what I love second best, writing. I forgot to eat anything until three o’clock, but I drank two pots of strong black coffee. I finished about three thousand words between laundry, going to the grocery, and packing for Denver. This afternoon I called my sister to clarify a few points about my father’s life, the story I had spent the day slaving over. “No,” she says, “It didn’t happen that way. He was only 8 when they went to Colorado. His mother owned a hotel in Horse Branch, not Rosine. They left because of dust in the air, you know, when all the soil blew away.” After she went on a bit more I was completely deflated. My story is great, one of the best I’ve written. It’s just evidently not about my father but some mythical person I created entirely inside my head. I saved it quietly and walked away. She’s going to send me the notes she made when she talked to him years ago. Oh, Bother, now I’m either going to have to make it historically accurate or change the name of the lead character from Dad to, I don’t know, Ed maybe?

I’m not going to think about that again today. I will think about that next week, or maybe the week after. I’m going to focus on the positive. Everything I own is clean, the house is reasonably presentable, my bag is neatly packed, and I have a new manager. YES, you heard that right! A new day has dawned and Mr. “Let’s go out to a poetry reading together” is one step nearer the exit door and no longer my problem. Speaking of steps, did I mention the red shoes? I was wondering how I was going to work them into this meandering post. Not too deftly I admit, but aren’t they adorable? When I was working my way through college I took a job at a shoe store. My favorite customers were the children under seven, because they have very simple requirements for footwear. I made it a point to talk to them first rather than the practical parent who accompanied them. Without exception, when asked what kind of shoes they wanted they would lisp, “Red ones.” I know exactly how they feel. Now darlings, I’m off to paint my toenails to match and go dancing. Have a stellar weekend.