“Being different is a revolving door in your life where secure people enter and insecure exit.”–Unknown
Abby got boots, finally.
Recently I went to get new glasses. Abby, a young lady I’m guessing in her late 20s helped me pick them out. She said to me, “I just have to say I love your boots.” I was wearing my cowboy boots. I said, “Thank you.”
She then proceeded to tell me she grew up on a farm in Texas wearing boots. “That’s all we ever wore. It’s who we were. Then after I graduated I moved to Illinois. I started noticing I was the only one wearing boots. I mean nobody wore boots there in the city. So I got rid of all my boots and wore tennis shoes like everyone else. I moved to Alabama about a year and a half ago and started noticing, hey, people wear boots here! I was so excited. It brought back good memories of my life on the farm growing up. I recently bought new boots!”
“That’s great. I live on a farm myself and love it.”
Abby smiled. “I love the farm life. It’s funny to me after having a city job for a while how even though farm life was much more physically labor intensive somehow life seemed slower. I loved caring for the animals. I bet you understand.”
“I do understand. I work hard but somehow I am more relaxed, and much less stressed than when I worked at my ‘real’ job,” I replied.
“I think I know what it is.” She seemed enlightened. “All the animals, chickens, pigs, horses, it doesn’t matter, they are all happy to see you every time you show up! There is gratitude in their eyes and genuine joy in your arrival. Not so much with people.” She shifted her eyes around the store.
“I think you’re on to something there for sure,” I muttered.
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“About a week and a half ago I bought a truck! I have wanted one for a long time but felt pressured not to have one because I didn’t really have a reason to need a truck.”
“Awesome! Look out there.” I pointed to the parking lot. “See that big Maroon F350?”
“That’s yours! Wow, that’s super!”
“Yep, my husband thinks it’s his but it is really mine.” I laughed. “I have horses, that’s my excuse.”
“Good one,” she said.
I left the store with a bit more bounce in my boot steps that day. As I hit the gas pedal on my truck, I felt a satisfaction in myself for having the courage to be who I was. I also felt remorse for Abby and her lack of will to be weird.
The experience left me wondering why so many of us go through life not wearing, doing, or being who we want to be. We sacrifice ourselves on the altar of peer pressure. Allowing ourselves to mold into people we never sought to be. Seeking to please people who as Abby stated, “Don’t always express gratitude and a genuine desire to see you.”
I’m glad Abby got boots. I hope she jumps out of her truck wearing them wherever she wants, with a swagger in her step.
Whatever your “boots” are in life, what are you waiting for? Got out and get them. Kick up your heels and show the world who they are dealing with.
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