March 19, 2012 § Leave a comment

Day 79.

I can see why people would marry for money.

The screen in front of me held pages upon pages of splendid shoes. I counted the few pennies in the palm of my hand then clicked on a little pair of leopard print flats. The big, pink satin bow on the toe practically had my name written all over it; the price tag, however, did not. My heart seemed to beat out of my chest as I stared at those shoes.

I recounted my pennies.

Anyone who knew my last husband can tell you I am not a “gold digger.” I do not say that in a vengeful way; he did what he wanted and I can respect that, that is, until he started cheating on me. And in all honesty, I didn’t even like shoes back then. A lot can change in 8 years. A girl can develop a deep love of shoes. A girl can become a “gold digger.” Or a girl can grow up and realize she needs to take matters into her own hands. By “matters” I mean money making. Or man hunting.

Is there a third option?

Dear Diary, today I applied for a job. Today I catalogued all of the boys I know with fat wallets. Today I fell in love… with a pair of shoes. Today I stayed in my pajamas. Today one wild piece of hair stood straight off of the side of my head. But no one was here to see it. So people can say what they want. I can be the divorced girl, the single girl, the absurd girl, the romantic, the “gold digger.” They can call my lazy or insecure or a rebel. But only you Diary, know which four of those are correct.

Decent lack can create a world of endless possibilities.

Most of my shoes are in storage, including the light blue tennis, the hippy sandals from India, and my snakeskin print heels. I have bought some new clothes to accompany the pile sitting upstairs in my suitcase. I have bought a couple pairs of shoes. Somewhere there are a set of red, tin canisters and a small stack of vintage greeting cards I recently bought. Everything else is stored away. I am partly waiting, but mostly I am taking this down time to seek out inspiration from a place of rest. Some days that looks like drooling over mesmerizing shoes. Other days it looks like meeting new men, without an agenda. It means tackling a craft project without a deadline or dreaming in the bathroom faucet section of the hardware store. It means getting to take it slow after a night of nightmares, or thinking about the motives of marriage over lunch.

Good things come to those who wait.

If I ordered those spectacular shoes they would arrive in 7-10 days. Or I could wait and see if something better comes along. Maybe a wealthy man? Or an even greater pair of shoes? I have taken my wool socks off, the windows are open, a gentle breeze blows in, and despite the glorious sunshine outside, the house is soothingly dark. A simple, quiet moment that soon will be passed.

It only gets better.





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