Once a week I make a trip to TJMax. Not because I need anything, but because I like to soak it all in, and maybe snag a discounted platter. On Sunday, I spotted these Tulip flats at a much-reduced price...yet certainly more than I'd usually spend on a pair of shoes whose sunny hue is never recommended for one as pale-skinned as I.
"They are frivolous," I thought sternly to myself, as I unlaced my practical shoes and eagerly slipped my toes into the buttercream striped soles. "But so, so sweet..."
As I test drove them up the hectic shoe aisle, my mind flung open the door to my wardrobe. I flipped through mental hangers, wondering what a girl wears with silly yellow flats. The answer was this: Nothing in my wardrobe. It was likely that absolutely nothing would match. I sunk down onto a tiny bench, torn over these $30 ray-of-sunshine shoes. I gazed at the ceiling, telling myself that no daffodil shoe, in all it's perfection, could cure my depression. My eyes returned to the floor, where two sweet butter-yellow floral poms stared kindly back up at me. If it weren't for their lack of face, I'd swear I saw them smile. What's a girl to do?
And then I remembered my trick. Whenever I need a voice of reason, I ask myself what Gabriel would say or do. He's every bit analytical to my every bit emotional, so somewhere in the middle we're your average human being.
"Bethany, my love," he would say. "These yellow shoes are precisely what you need. I demand that you have them."
He only calls me "my love" in my mind, simply an embellishment for my romantic heart...a side effect of watching Pride and Prejudice seventeen too many times. But, analytical or not, he would absolutely pull those shoes off my feet and march up to the counter before I'd have a second to protest.
So that's precisely what I did. And I've not regretted it since.
