Every girl needs lucky red shoes. They make her feet feel like happy explorers on the Yellow Brick Road. When her feet are happy, well her hips get all perky too. They swing left and right to a rumba beat which is probably being strummed on her heart strings. When her hips are perky, well naturally, her arms swing a little jive too. While the arms are jiving, the head gets its groove on too. So to be a pair of lucky red shoes means to be flesh and bone jukebox.
Please meet my lucky red shoes. Today they carried me off to a new job. Bright and early. 6:45 a.m.
There they go. Off to the car. Girl wonder dropped off at her place of care for a day of swimming and friends. It felt like the first day of school only without the Holly Hobby lunchbox.
There they are waiting patiently to fill out the forms and files that officially make me someone else’s employee for just a little while longer. The next step in the Big Entrepreneurial Plan. They went up and down hallways, meeting new faces (or fellow footwear). They gave a nice push for a twirl in the office chair.
Then they waited patiently on the floor, while the toes had time to roam the new office. And they waited patiently on the floor while the toes decided that they were having too much fun running untethered and refused to be corralled again.
And at the end of the day, they carried me home. Knowing they did a job well done for they could still feel a tiny little sparkle in the curves and swinging parts. Which is what it’s all about if you are lucky enough to be a pair lucky red shoes. Now they rest quietly in the closet. Content. And I, having left work at work, shall head to the sewing room to finally craft some stitches and seams into a pocket of love for my new nephew.
Franny Bolsa 