Boots made for walking.

I woke up with a start, skipped a shower, but continued with the rest of my monotonous routine, never changing the order, never stopping until I am ready. Ready for another day. But it was chilly, cooler than before, and I decided to ponder. The thoughts of what to wear often result in the rolling of eyes by others, but the person dressing takes their time, sketches themselves, sees into the future of the day, has an image in mind. A specific feeling or persona they want to be, to create, to become. The black called to me as it usually does, and I resisted. I looked again still, pondering, drawing out the time it takes to make an uncomplicated decision. I settled on the gray, a less severe black, my new dark jeans, low black heels, and a black sweater to complete the ensemble, to keep me warm, to go over the gray. Tied tight. I packed in my quilted black tote, and grabbed my insulated coffee cup. I was going for that image. The confident, semi-uptight, pulled together look that doesn't invite open communication. The coffee is not actually a simple object, it should be held like an extension of the hand, a piece of the body, a source of power and confidence and of course, the legal stimulant that means so much to us all. I walked down the stairs calmly, out the door without thought, and down the street confidently with my coffee in hand. I pondered my schedule, my routine, plans, and anxieties, crossing the street, turning the corner, walking through the impatient wind. I cut through the parking lot because it saves time and I was perfectly on schedule, walking behind an older man who had just parked his car. I was about five feet behind him, still somewhat unaware of my too familiar surroundings. My heels clicked on the pavement, and he heard, I assume. I clicked on, looked up to see him turn and lift his head to me.

"Howdy."

I had no control over the fact that my feet chose to stop, the clicking stopped, the mindless journey stopped. I had to remind myself in a quick second where I did actually live, and where I actually was before I could take in the stereotypical greeting that I have actually never heard before. I had to remind myself that I lived in Austin, the heart of Texas, and a quick look to my left pointed to the fact that I was about twelve blocks from the Capitol of our great state. This, according to some and perhaps pop culture, should have been the most meaningless, familiar, natural greeting considering my location, yet I was stunned. I would have been slightly less shocked if I was perhaps wearing a burnt orange tee and jeans, or maybe if it was a Baptist parking lot that I was standing in instead of an Episcopal one, but nonetheless, surprise engulfed me. Sometimes, life brings you treasures like this, little moments of spontaneous normalcy to remind us just who we are, even if we are holding an insulated coffee cup while clicking in black heels on the way to our allergy shot appointments. Gotta love it.