upswing, downswing

i think i have a major issue with boot envy.

walking home today, mind as heavy as the dusty brown clodhoppers i wear all the time, i saw at least six pairs of boots i wished were gracing my feet instead of their owners. all down havemyer i got distracted from my current distractions and lusted after the sexiness that boots are.

a tall camel-colored pair of flats, high-calf length. slim but not dainty, flat but not bottomed-out. ankle cut cowboy boots, black, snakeskin. buckled black fryes, just under the base of the calf.

so, so sexy.

and each time i would see a pair i liked, i would look at my own and see the broken leather ankle strap, the margarita spills on the toes, the worn-down heel. i bought them vintage, granted. but i beat them up, bloody and bruised.

it was a grey day today, cool and slightly damp. the kind of damp that settles down in your joints and gets in between your ears. i have felt lucid these past couple of days, like my life is buzzing all around me and i'm standing still, watching it. every once in awhile, i participate in the conversation or am brought back by a slight touch of a friend's hand, but observing is where i need to be. it was no different this morning than it was from going out last night. the bars were busy and i was tired of being in the middle of so many people. my friends were scanning for men and i was admiring the decor of the new-ish bar on lorimer.

i made the decision i needed more mirrors in my life. they were everywhere in that place, and it gave such spectacular views for the people watching.

i didn't talk to anyone really, just watched everything happen and chat to my girlfriends who i was there with. commented on men who grew the early-90s rapist mustaches, and why they would think it actually was acceptable to wear out. pushed our way through loud hipsters to our vodka sodas, put erin in a cab when it was a good idea to go home. slept it off.

i woke up grey, started cleaning. talked to a good, old friend. something about laughing about the past relationship lessons i learned with him makes the new ones i'm learning a little more bearable.

so anyway, fast forward from dropping off drum cymbals to my now-ex (after all, it says so on facebook), walking home.

boot envy. rwowr. meow.

i get to the underpass, again staring at the dilapidated jalopies i call boots and wishing i could fix the strap, but i don't have a leather-sewing tool, i got distracted, for the 1,548th time, by the sound of laughter. i was by the playground, and there were two parents swinging with their children, pushing them higher and higher as the kids literally squealed with delight. it stopped me in my tracks.

so, i swung. i chucked my heavy boots in the air and used their momentum backward to push myself almost parallel to the ground on the backswing. as i started downward again i threw my chest forward and drove my feet into the air, chunky black soles framed in grey skies and highway overpass. the cold damp air rushed into my lungs like water in a cess pool at high tide, and with every fall back down from the sky got sucked out of me as if there were hands inside my ribcage pulling it out. eventually, after the children had left and my fingers were numb from the metal chains, i let my body slow down, relax, and feel the tide of the motion.

my feet dragged back and forth, tipping forward on the toe and falling back to the heel. the boots looked so beat up against the patterned playground matting, so worn in.

and it was with that thought that i fell in love with them again. they're a little busted, but they look great on me. they're perfect for what i do and who i am. they're surviving, and have done great work.

i hopped up off the swing, smoothed out my jacket, and grabbed my purse. my feet, just like my head, had suddenly become a little lighter.

~k.