Personal Narrative-Belly Night

Every morning I wake up to the annoying sound of Abigael’s alarm clock and the smell of my own leather. Don’t get me wrong; I love waking up to the song, “Endlessly” by the Cab, but does it have to be at six-fifteen in the morning every day even on weekends? I mean, does she not like to sleep? I’ll never understand it. Once Abigael finally wakes up, the anticipation starts to set in. Which pair of shoes will she choose today? Fortunately for me there’s not too much competition. There are the smelly sneakers, the blue heels, myself, and then there’s the cowboy boots. I cannot stand those cowboy boots and there are three pairs of them! I understand that since I am an ankle boot myself, I should get along with them more, but I hate them. They always pick on me since I’m too short to be considered a cowboy boot, which leaves me in this odd in between group
I am happy to make the journey downstairs, as I am tired after the day and ready to head to bed early. Abigael stops in front of the mirror one more time as she reaches into her back pocket, grabs the gentleman’s number, and smiles as she looks at the piece of paper. She then looks down at me and says, “Glad I had my lucky boots on today.” It is in that moment that I realize what I am. I am Abigael’s lucky, sassy pair of boots. I may not be a tall, tan pair of leather cowboy boots, but I am short, black, made of slick leather, and have plenty of sass with my three-inch heel. It all makes sense now; why Abigael always walks a little taller in me, why she wears me so often, and why she always walks with just a little more pep in her step while wearing me. I feel content as Abigael slides me off and returns me to the floor of her closet. I will no longer feel inferior to those taller boots, now I feel nothing but pride and will sleep peacefully knowing that I am wanted. Today has been a great day because now I know exactly what I am; lucky and