When I was a little girl, my mother had this dress, a bubble dress. I think it was in a soft blue, green color. More than the dress however, I remember the spike heels. My mother was five feet (with great legs) and I’m sure the spike heels helped a lot with my Dad who was 6’3”.
I remember that when my sisters got to a certain age, they started with the spike heels, and I would try walking in their shoes, in anticipation of the time that I would go out and wear those teetering footwear of torture.
But that time never came.
As a child, it didn’t dawn on me that fashion changed—and by the time I began dating, I was more into flat sandals and beaded headbands than spike heels.
Change. At any given moment, we can’t imagine that things might one day be different. But of course, they invariably are.
During my first years running marathons, I used to psych myself up for the race, telling myself that when things got bad in the race, I would just talk myself through the pain. I had done half marathons, and after the first couple of years of marathons, I knew the level of pain and commitment they demanded. What I didn’t expect was that during the marathon, my whole brain and thinking would change. Instead of “You can do it, Debra, you can run through the pain”- my brain was saying, “Who cares about whether you have a better time than last year? This is stupid and torturous—forget about getting a good time—just fucking finish.” My brain or thinking was completely different—I still think it was replaced with an alien’s.
I’ve been thinking about change a lot recently, because for years, I’ve been working at multiple jobs: in academia; as a documentary producer; and as the overseer and point person for a non-profit media company. And I never thought I could stop because I cared for them all so much.
But things change. One of the silver linings of the pandemic I supposed, is that it has allowed me to see another life for myself, that doesn’t entail working 14 hours a day, seven days a week and juggling multiple responsibilities to exhaustion. A life where David and I actually get to watch great programs in the evening together along with the cats splayed out on the bed. A life that includes lots of interesting cooking and baking together, walking and laughing, redecorating, and exploring all sorts of different paths—and if this pandemic ever ends, incorporates a lot of travel.
I’m grateful that the concept of spike heels is not something I have to consider, (nor bubble skirts). And for all the other positive transformations in my past, and God willing, there will be many more in the future. Hopefully this country will soon experience some of these as well. Otherwise, I’ll see you all in Portugal.
