Stop clomping around! My mother used to say this when I walked heavy. And I can still hear her voice and correction loud and clear as I walk around in fancy red cowboy boots!Â I listen to myself clomping around, I love the noise Iâ€™m making as I walk on the wood floor from bedroom to bath. I want to go to a party in these boots.
Red shooooes!! I sing an Emily Lu Harris song in my head, Iâ€™m goin out on the town tonight, in Red shoesâ€¦â€¦ooooooo.
Ken laughs. Iâ€™m not sure if he is laughing at my singing, or my boots? Where did you get those? Linda gave them to me. Arenâ€™t they wonderful? He laughs again, as if Iâ€™m being silly and then when I walk down the hall, he yells, â€œStop clomping around!â€
â€œWhat?â€ I ask. â€œStop clomping aroundâ€ he smiles at me. Says his mom would say that when he and his brothers wore their boots in the house back in Nebraska. Mothers! Is it a mother thing keeping the house quiet, or teaching us how to walk in the world â€” not to throw ourselves at it. Doing their best so we donâ€™t land to hard.
I have listened to how people walk for years now. I watch them move their bodies and try to feel what they feel. I mimic them inside myself. I think it helps me teach. I watch young men clomp or drag their feet around like old men. I see young women wearing stupid shoes with high heels and wonder about the problems they will have later with their bodies. I watch Peet, who on the other hand, walks gently on the earth, but he calls out with meows and is hardly quiet.
Today I feel like clomping around, but I’m wearing red slippers â€” not red boots. Today my step is soft and gentle â€” Today I’m not clomping around.