Boots

Eight-year-old Amy Lee trying to look natural.

I was dismayed when I learned that I couldn’t wear my cowboy boots to my First Communion.

It made no sense. I had my boots, the only shoes I wore when I wasn’t in saddle shoes for school, or sneakers or cleats for sports. 

“They have to be white,” my exasperated mom said, when we were shopping for my dress – a dress! Also anathema. 

“Then I’ll get white cowboy boots!” 

It seemed obvious to me. 

… that story ended with me in white patent leather Mary Jane shoes, with white knee socks, as a “bride of Christ” during one of my first religious rituals. The perfectly-placed rosary over my prayerful hands looks as natural as the tilted veil on my head. The best the photographer could hope for was to capture a smirk, the vaguest hint of a smile, as I played along in my costume and uncomfortable shoes.  

If we encounter each other today, there’s a good chance you’ll see me in boots. I cycle among a handful, each pair with their own story, some re-soled several times.