Pi and I were spending a little time together before she left for school.
“Thanks for the boots, by the way,” she said. I looked confused. To cover my confusion, I said, “Huh?”
“The boots,” she said pointing to her feet. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.” Since it had worked so well for me the first time, I repeated, “Huh?”
Obviously deciding I wasn’t awake yet, she broke it down into little words. “Thank you,” she said signing at the same time so that I’d be sure to get her meaning, “for letting me” pointing to herself “borrow your” pointing to me “boots.” She finished with a dramatic flair as she pointed to her feet.
“Those are mine?” I asked.
She burst out laughing. “You didn’t know that?”
Errrr… “I thought I’d bought a new pair of winter boots last year but I thought they were more like my old ones. And I kept seeing those on your feet…” I trailed off lamely. Pi was laughing too hard to respond. Finally she caught her breath.
“They’re yours. Haven’t you notice I don’t keep them in my room or anything?” For a smart chick, that is not a brilliant statement–neither of us are very good at corralling our shoes, so there is often pedal attire multiplying in the kitchen, family room, laundry room, or any other convenient corner.
“So those are mine, huh?”
“Yup.” She started giggling again.
“You mean I’ve been freezing my toes off in this weather when they could have been warm in your, I mean MY, boots?”
“You could have worn them any time. Well, any time I wasn’t.”
I gave her a look meant to quell the giggles. It didn’t work. If anything, it ignited another round of guffaws.
This is embarrassing. I love shoes. I love my shoes. I forgive myself for forgetting because these are winter boots meant more for functionality than fashion. And hidden away with other winter outerwear for 6 months a year.
On the other hand a 15 year old was wearing them. They can’t be hideous or she’d never have appropriated them.
Yesterday I wore her my new newish boots. Even with the snow, my toes were happy.
Stay warm, kid,