Miracle on Milwaukee Street (actually Avenue)

Last night I really had a great time. I went solo shopping for tap dance shoes for a Community Ed Class I'm taking later on this month. I found not only the tap shoes I was looking for (right at the end, at the second shop on Milwaukee Avenue nearby my apartment) but so much more. I found magic.

It's been a while since I've felt like something happens that wouldn't happen for other people - like something special occurs in my day that is completely extraordinary. It happened in between the used toys and electronics... right amongst the white plastic shelves barely fit to contain the number of used shoes of all sizes and of absolutely no organized placement. I found the exact same boots I purchased in November, 1999 from a Nordstrom Rack in California. These last three years the boots I almost threw away five years ago became a cherished and appreciated winter barrier against slush and grit and rain and cold while snuggled into my bike's toe clip pedals.

It was in a puddle last winter that I realized they were beginning to say their goodbyes. At first my socks were a bit damp. Sure the zipper pulley snapped off after a -20 degree ride several years back, but they were still ok. I would put a plastic bag over my socks for a while. Eventually my denial was as easy to pick apart as the stuffing coming out of the fleece lining... through the outer parts of the boots. I've kept them only for the sake of hoping to find a replacement online...

Discontinued.

I swear every good and happy and true point of my live was relived last night as I looked up to see two replicas - a bit dusty - smiling at me above the stacks of heels and sneakers. A cry of "NO WAY" directly followed by trying to explain my entire story to a quiet and smilingly polite Hispanic woman who just wanted to look for her damn shoes herself thanks came out of my mouth with the luster only comparable to a child's on Christmas day upon finding out they receive extra presents this year!



With this, and a feminine and professional blazer score, I left and rode home feeling like Chicago had welcomed me into its open arms. The city of broad shoulders... extending them to give me a hug. I don't care if they do say it's the most Depressing City (Forbes, look it up.) It's only depressing if you don't know how to dig at a thrift store.

Wishing you miracles...in whatever shoe size you wear...


Love love love,

K.