Raucous, pop-art flowers in hot pink and and orange with bits of green and turquoise caught my eye. Happy satin atop the platform high heels with a peek-a-boo toe. These shoes were made to twirl, dance and start a dance party.

A bunch of college girlfriends and I were at the Macy’s in downtown Chicago, on the Magnificent Mile, if memory serves, doing some recreational shopping on a crazy-fun trip more than a decade ago.

I’ve lived in small, rural towns for a long time. So downtown, department store shopping just for fun with the girls is quite rare. Nor always fun. I’m often practical and pinching pennies, working hard toward a bigger life goal that’s more important to me than stuff. 

And when it comes to shoes, I’m quite content with my two mainstays: Great sneakers and comfortable black clogs that go with everything.

Just for fun, I slipped those high heels on, took a few wobbly, teetering steps and cracked up laughing. This got my girlfriends’ attention. 

“Oh, you have to get those!’ they said. 

So I did. They stayed packed in the car the next week while we visited an island in Lake Michigan that called for Teva sandles and flip-flops. My kinda place.

Display-worthy

After vacation, back in central Pennsylvania, I opened the box, releasing that department store scent, a mix of “brand new” and the fragrances those ladies in white coats spritz into the air.

I unwrapped my fun “girlfriend” shoes from their delicate, white tissue paper and displayed them in a prominent place in the closet. 

They can pull a fun outfit together. I’ve worn them maybe twice, and kicked them off after a half-hour. 

They’ve survived many closet cleanouts, when the rest of the poorly fitting, uncomfortable shoes landed in the trash. These days, my feet scream without the Vionics shoes that properly hold my heel and arch in place. My heel-wearing days have mostly slipped away. 

Yet, I’m not parting with my “Betty Boop” girlfriend shoes. No way.

Their job is neither to be comfortable, nor even shoes.

Their job is not to lift my arches, but to lift my spirits with memories of fun nights with my girlfriends and inspire hope for future, raucous evenings of laughing and dancing together. Some days, they work their magic from the top of my desk.

They are made for strutting out, a quick snapshot and starting the party. Then being kicked off into the grass. 

Simpler Times & Guilty Pleasures

One summer night, before the Chicago trip, these girlfriends and I took over the dance floor at a club in Boston and danced for hours to the ‘80s music of our teen years. We shimmied, and twirled, swayed and stepped, waved our arms in the air without a care in the world.

I was still single then. Those simpler days are over. Our bachelorette parties are behind us.

Now — to be clear: I am a happily married, content woman living a beautiful life. Living my dream. I am absolutely serious and clear about this. My family is healthy, thank God, and we are so lucky to not worry about our next meals, or water or heat. 

To even reminisce and daydream about dancing these days feels like a luxury and guilty pleasure. 

Yet, this helps me get through. 

Our lives are more complex and richer now, in a way that makes a night of dancing challenging even when we no longer have to worry that breathing each other’s air will spread a deadly disease.

Love that Holds Up the Sky

We’ve reached a different life-stage. One with silver hair for some of us, and bodies quite strong and able. Such an amazing time to be a strong woman. Our spirits help hold up the sky.

We have lives in which finding a night when we know our kids are OK, and our parents are OK and our spouses are OK is — shall we say — tricky.

Three of my girlfriends have survived breast cancer. We have endured divorces and many of us have lost parents.

We have walked through the fires of life. Which makes the dancing all the more joyous, right? Just look what we’ve survived! Look what we can accomplish! Hallelujah! 

I don’t want to go backwards or get stuck in the past — just to dance with my girls again for a night as if we’re single and as if life is simple.

In my mind’s eye, it’s a summer evening with fireflies. 

We laugh so hard we squeal and wipe our tears away. The beat lifts us onto our feet and takes over our bodies. We kick off our shoes because they slow us down and dance barefoot in the cool grass.

We don’t know when that dance party will come — just that it will. It must.

When it does, my girlfriend shoes are ready to kick off the festivities.

~~~

When it’s time for the dance party, are you in? Got your dancing shoes? Who will you invite? What music do you want to put on the playlist?

I’ll get this party started.

For Jen in Seattle, the center of our college coven that met in Chicago

For Candace:

For my Mom:

For Karen. 

For Veronica:

For Linda:

For Elizabeth: