the rose of kiev

I wore a uniform from my first day of 6th grade all the way through to my high school graduation.  For seven years, my only clothing options were a limited number of colored polo shirts, navy blue or khaki uniform pants, and a plaid skirt.  Technically I could've worn a jumper too, but the socially cognizant stopped wearing those the day they left the 6th grade. Options to stand out were rather limited, and with that high school herd instinct, not many wanted to.  Even though we got to choose our own shoes and socks, there were a lot of girls wearing black Mary Janes and white knee highs those years in order to fit in.  I, however, chose my shoes specifically because of their uniqueness: a pair of purple Converse All-Stars.  It was my small way of defying the status quo. Some people think the words "God" and "church" equate with losing your individuality, and a mandated rigid conformity.  If that were the case, I can say honestly that I would not still be here. ...

I have this lovely pair of brown flats that I like very much.  However, judging by what they did to my heels when I wore them last week, the love is hardly mutual.  In the time it took me to walk to my first class from the bus stop, I was already limping and fantasizing about Neosporin and a box of Band-Aids. My heels were lucky enough to be raw on a warm and dry day, and the bulk of my path happened to be across the campus Oval, a grassy park area criss-crossed with sidewalks.  With my shoes in hand, the undamaged soles of my feet padded through the soft Bluegrass blades of the Oval's circumference.  And I endured a surprise lesson on the terrain.   In that short walk, my toes sunk into a miniature swamp, and then were covered by a patch of sand on the opposite side of a sidewalk.  One moment the turf was luxurious, then a looming pine tree would choke out the grass with its shade and needles.  And just when I'd think I'm in the clear again, I realized from the acorn lodge...