Red

I wore red shoes on the day I got married.  The most spectacular little red satin slides with a big red bow across the toe.

I remember the day we bought them.  We weren’t looking for wedding shoes that day.  I didn’t even have my dress yet.  They were up high on a pedestal, literally, in the middle of a very fancy shoe display at the Neiman Marcus in Scottsdale, Arizona.  We were not shopping at Neiman’s, we were simply walking through the store because it was the shortest way to get to our lunch destination from the parking lot.  I just saw them, and I knew.  I very clearly recall the exchange I had with my mom.  Pointing at the shoes, I said, “That’s them.”  And without missing a beat, she knew exactly what I was talking about and replied, “Of course they are.  You’d better try them on.”

Mostly, it was a secret.  There was a very short list of people who knew that tucked under that full white skirt was a little bit of red.  Hiding.  Until at the very end of the most beautiful wedding, my new husband and I turned around to make our way up the aisle together and I had to lift up the front of my dress just a bit to navigate the steps.  We got to the back of the church and we had just moments to ourselves, but I wanted him to see.  So I pointed my toe and lifted the hem of my dress to show him my red satin beauties and he simply said, “Of course you did."

Can something be totally unexpected and completely predictable at the same time?  Maybe.