xmas cowboy boots

cowboy-boot

A little boy I’ve never met drove me into the eye of holiday mall madness this year —

And I’m thinkin’ maybe — just maybe — I’ve been missing somethin’ the last 20 years or so in my no-nonsense approach to holiday gift giving —

And I’m not sure I’m ready to go — all elfy — and start shopping for my 11 nieces and nephews between 1 and 21 who seem to have everything their hearts desire, but — oh, by gosh, by golly —

I am ever so grateful Gabriel asked for cowboy boots —

And I’m — uh — more than just a tad surprised at myself that  — even with the option to throw some cash in an envelope or pick up a Cub grocery certificate — I could not resist this 13-year-old boy’s request to send me into the winter night in search of boys size 13 cowboy boots.

My first night — though hardly intended — was purely a fact finding mission.   Seven stores and two hours later, not one piece of footwear remotely resembling a cowboy boot.  

I met Kath — who I found to be very helpful and informative on many things including how Walmart screwed its employees out of bathroom breaks and now has to pay millions — on my last stop and she gave me my marching orders for the next night —

Brilliant.  Why didn’t I think of this in the first place? 

Well — er — quite possibly because the Mall of America is the last place on earth I want to drive myself or take myself any day or night of the year.   And December —

God help me. 

But this is my responsibility now.  And at this point — well, what could be more important than finding Gabriel’s cowboy boots?

So it’s night two and I’m greeted by no less than three bona fide cowboys — at least by their hats, boots and snapped up shirts —

And you can imagine my amazement and  —  utter befuddlement to realize — upon locating the boys size 13 cowboy boots within the acres and acres of cowboy boots lined up in every size, shape and color under the western sun that —

Boys 13 is — tiny.

Fit for a toddler, I think, but of course I cannot be sure of this — but certainly —

I cannot buy these tiny little hardly authentic boots for Gabriel age 13 who wants —

Cowboy boots.

Because, well — Tyler, hatted man who is helping me, says —

“I wore mens size 13 when I was 13.”

Wha—at? 

Ok.   So these are BIG.  But I gotta go with it.  I’m tryin’ to picture Gabriel as a midget with baby size 13 and — nope. 

This is the wild wild west and I’m outta my comfort zone in every way now so — we’re gettin’ the Justins —mens size 13. 

Gabriel — whoever you are — this time, more than ever,  I hope I did the right thing by erring on the side of —

Bigger is —

Better.

God bless.

Author: Julie Ann Stevens

My art flows from the patterns & paths of my lived experience which ⏤ like yours ⏤ are at once deeply personal and entirely universal.

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