Someone took my Frye boots from my yoga studio yesterday. Teresa and I took our sweet time after class getting dressed, and by the time we got to the shoe area (everyone takes off their shoes and coats at the door in one little spot) it was clear they were gone. However, there was a pair of the exact same boots, just a size smaller and more beaten in. This morning I was back at the studio, and those boots are still there. So their owner is now somewhere stomping around the city sliding around in my size 10s.
I could have taken the size 9 boots – I even tried them on – but they didn’t fit and besides, that seemed weird to me. So I left a note on the studio bulletin board and talked to the nice woman who works at the front desk. And that was that. Teresa luckily had rain boots and sneakers on her, so I slid into the rubber boots (also a size too small) and she kindly walked home me home so I could give her back her boots and put some new shoes on. The whole situation is of course a little sucky; I liked those boots a lot. But at no moment did I ever feel upset, and this made me really happy. I see a lot of people – especially in NYC and my hometown Wellesley – freak out about the stupidest shit. I’ve seen some intense meltdowns happen when someone cuts the line at the Roche Bros. deli in Wellesley. But after experiencing my mom’s illness and death, this kind of shit barely bothers me. It’s amazing. I mean, yes, I still get pissy when people act like idiots while walking around the city or if there’s no more brown rice veggie sushi rolls left at my Whole Foods; but the urge to freak out over small shit has basically left my body, and I could not be happier. It’s nice to just give in to the ways of the world rather than fight it. So my boots accidentally got taken. So what. They’re just boots. They’re just clutter in my house and apartment. I got a good two years out of them, and I will miss them, especially in the rain. But I’ll be okay, and I could not be happier about it. I’ve long known that many gifts have grown out of my terrible loss – and many more are surely still to come, I hope. And not sweating the small stuff – especially stuff that is out of your control – is one of them.
Thank you Mom.
