Magical Shoes

Dorothy's ruby red slippers in the Wizard of Oz were the first shoes I ever thought of as having a source of some magical power. As a kid, I'd watch that movie and wish I had a pair of shoes that could transform me, make me brave even when I was scared, and take me to new, unimagined places. I never really found shoes in reality that could do any of that, until this past Labor Day weekend.

We did some shopping for the start of school. The boys were easy, choosing pretty much exactly as I'd have expected for their own personal styles. But my daughter, our oldest child, surprised us and left me standing in a stunned admiration.

Watching Katherine, a month ago, suddenly go from having long hair that was easy to hide behind to a new angled cut very short in back sloping to a point at her chin was beautiful. But that was nothing compared to witnessing her go from a random fashion style that consisted primarily of wrinkled fitted tee shirts and jeans, painfully trying to just blend in at all costs, to choosing almost all grey and black outfit combinations with stylish black capri length leggings. It was charming. I asked if she was going "goth" and she answered "Well, Goth people don't like the sun...and I do. So no." I nodded as if I was up on all the details in the Goth Handbook.

Soon it was time for her to pick out her new shoes. She wanted, very specifically, black canvas high-topped Converse tennis shoes with white toes and laces.

"Really?" I asked, with perhaps too much shocked glee in my voice for her comfort.

"Yes," she answered nervously as she bit her thumbnail and let her hair slide in front of her left eye.

We found them in Target and she carefully tried on her new shoes. All angles and attributes were studied by her for almost 30 minutes. Was the heel ok? The toe? How tight should she tie them? She may have decided upon a strong style but her cautious sensibilites were still showing. It made it all the more adorable. Her dad and I were grinning above her head as we shot each other looks that asked "Can you believe this?"

Katherine has always, and I mean from birth, been shy and nervous. Nothing made her feel safe--not light, dark, sound, quiet, touches, being alone, or even food could comfort her as a baby. I have never seen anything like it. If she wasn't born of my own womb, I would have sworn she was a crack baby. The doctors concluded that she has an anxiety disorder, which is just to say she is overly nervous about....well, everything. So, to watch her blossom suddenly into this artsy, semi-gothy, fifth grader was not just a mom being tickled by witnessing her daughter's latest style being carefully designed. No. I knew the immense stretch and great amout of bravery this was requiring from her. We live in a very conservative, logo-centric, suburban area. People here blend in. Katherine was choosing, of her own will, to stand out. No other girl in her school will be wearing those shoes. Fifth grade is an especially cut throat place where any deviation from the standard can be socially poisonous. This was huge! I have never been so proud.

Later that night she came to me, long after she was to be in bed, just to hug me and say quietly, "Thanks Mom...for letting me get those shoes. I really love them." She bit her fingernail again, with a grin. Katherine was truly glowing. Bravery lit her spirit.