In Defense of My Rain Boots

By Sara Lockett

Every day at recess on my elementary school playground, there was a group of girls my age who would build “cities” for roly-polys. They would sit in the dirt in the corner and act as town council to the bugs. I never joined them, though I was intrigued, because I was too preoccupied with attempting to summon ghosts. Little girls will always be weird. 

It isn’t hard to remember how happy it made me being ten feet up in a tree, pretending I was hiding from a bear. (I didn’t know bears could climb trees, I’m sure I would’ve taken the situation much more seriously if I did). Most of us weird little girls grew up, though, at least somewhat. Maybe we still hold on to some of the things we loved as kids—plants, fantasy novels, the occult, but most of us lost the joyful sense of curiosity and whimsy that took up so much of our time when we were young. It's a natural thing that comes with the responsibility of being an adult—but why shouldn’t we try to recapture it, at least a little bit?

Sara wearing her rain boots. (Photo credit to the author)

I recently came into possession of a pair of green rain boots, and whenever I wear them, it makes me giddy to stomp through puddles. Making room for small moments of playfulness is very fulfilling, and not very difficult. I would recommend anyone to suspend their disbelief when they are in a creaky old building, and imagine that there is a ghost in there, and to remember how bold they once were, and say hello.