To walk in their boots

I inherited Mom’s after ski boots when she died. They’re great Romika boots with a solid tread and they fit me perfectly – once I wiggle my foot into them.

On the night of January 4th around 11:30, Tom asked me if I wanted to take Shasta for a walk with him. It was icy outside and I had just finished working so I was tired. “Sure,” I said, “But only up the hill and back.”

I grabbed Mom’s boots and started to pull them on but decided it was too much work and I threw on my imitation UGGs with the worn-down, barely-still-wavy tread instead.

An hour later Tom snapped a photo of those imitation UGGs – in the emergency room.

A package arrived from Kristin’s sister this morning. At Kristin's memorial, her sister Casey told me that Kristin willed some beautiful pieces of clothing to me and my daughters. She was a classy, elegant dresser and I knew that there’d be some beautiful garments in the box – and there were.

But this is what's given me chills all day:

The first thing I saw when I opened the box was a brand new pair of (real) UGGs.

With tread.

Casey and Kristin had bought them for the winter that Kristin barely lived through and she never had a chance to wear them. Although they're a size bigger than Kristin normally wears, they fit me (both feet!) absolutely perfectly.

I wish I believed in all the “speaking from beyond the grave stuff,” because if I did I’d say that Mom and Kristin, who loved each other (and me) dearly, are both being characteristically protective of me.

I kind of like that; it makes me feel warm – and, yes, gives me chills – all over.