It felt like I’ve been getting ready forever. I’m still representing in the mirror, at least, my makeup isn’t crumbling. This night is going to happen, everything is set minus my shoes.
Every outfit needs shoes, or actually lately, every outfit needs boots! The booties I’m planning to put on are new, ordered exactly my size in luscious black leather.
The box is cute. Orange top with yellow flowers lightly attached in a rainbow arch. Daisies smiling back at me. I usually like to add ceremony to my personal unboxing. The room is quiet today with the clouds obscuring the sun outside. The light in the room is muted though waiting for a reason to light up the yellow cardboard flora. Leaning down toward the box my necklace pointing toward the edge, it slowly makes its way back toward my chest as I lift the top.
The ‘Forever’ logo’d tissue paper crinkles as oxygen fills the void left while lifting the cover. What sweet goodness do I see hidden beneath the soft white lattice of birch and cream? The deep color is muted underneath the translucent peal, the light wrap only enhances the need to see what was held in the quiet darkness.
I was about to pull the paper away, exposed the truth beneath, but I hesitated. My mind moved away from the freedom at hand, and fell back into a familiar thought. The darkness outside seemed less muted, more cloudy.
It’s been three months.
Maybe it was how the room reflected the missing jewelry. Possibly it’s how the teal polish seems darker on a foggy day. Either way, I’m here, I’m standing, I’m wearing a dress that epitomizes my me. I’m staring at the article that will get me out the door, but my piece, my silver, the part that lived with me is now simply missing. A white band, a void, skin without a silver band.
He’s gone. He’ll never be back.
I turn to face the mirror again. Willing my face to hold. My hand shakes a bit, grasping the chair in front of me. The welling inside, is there, it’s on the edge of my breath. If I skip on the inhale this could be it. So many tears. Pillows stained with mascara. I used to believe that a cry relived my stress until I couldn’t turn it off. Is there any way to just make this day move forward?
“Breathe” I said quietly. “Breathe”, I inhaled, slowly, I was going to finish this one. Okay, exhale, close your eyes. Maintain. Move your hair behind your ear. Inhale. Exhale. Open your eyes. Reapply that lipstick. Yes. Maintain.
“I can do this.” I quietly breathed. “I can do this!” I said aloud.
By this time, I willed my right hand behind me, pinching the comforter and pulling myself back around. I’m now staring at the daisies. Sweet yellow flowers, so much hope.
“I must do this.”
It’s time to get ready.
The faux leather looks soft, black as dark as night. The heal catches the tapered sole in an powerful embrace. I love how narrow it looks sitting in the box. The zipper, partially pulled down “showing a little” to its single audience. Fingering the sole I trace it’s path toward the heel. Three inches to my five foot six frame. Apart from discomfort, there is nothing that shapes my body better than a well heeled shoe. If I feel cute than I must be. If I look happy than I am.
If I go out I’ll feel better.
Grasping the heel, I spin the bootie around to view the show. Buckles! Three silver attachments, holding tight to any ankle, my ankle, protecting me from a life that is less understood.
The zipper crackles and snaps as I draw it down to expose the insides. Sitting back in front of my mirror, I start sliding my right foot into its adorable prison. The anklet disappears slightly, til I realize that those narrow fronts are hiding a secret. I spin and twist, grasping hold of the upper. “You. Will. Fit. This. Foot. Today.” I say in cadence with my foot twists.
After a slight bit of work, my foot slides home. Leaning over, I grab the lonely sister and duplicate the chore. Staring down at my cloven feet I smile. The narrow front, strongly laden with buckles and belts. The taper from my calve now holds true. Slight pain for glorious style. I stand, and for once smile. Some sun peaks through the window, and my posture takes hold.
The first step is the hardest, but I turn toward the door on my way into the hallway.