Ruby Slippers

I remember, when I was little, I would go over to my grandma’s house and watch movies.  We would sit on her worn brown couch with blankets and popcorn and cocoa.  I would get to choose which movie we watched.  I loved the freedom of being able to decide which movie to watch from amongst her vast collection, although I almost always chose the same one: The Wizard of Oz.  I loved the story.  A girl gets transported into another land and goes on all kinds of adventures with a Scarecrow, a Tin Man, a Cowardly Lion, and her Scotty dog Toto.  All the while, she is looking for a way home.  But what I loved best about Dorothy was not her courage or kindness.  It was her Ruby Slippers.  To my three-year-old self, the Ruby Slippers were magical.  They were glittery and red, and ultimately became Dorothy’s way home.

            I was the kind of kid who loved to run around and play outside in the mud.  Needless to say, I went through shoes pretty fast.  One day, soon after my third birthday, my mother took me shopping for yet another pair of gym shoes.  I sitting on a bench, whining as my mom tried to force my foot into a pair of too-tight shoes when I saw them.  They were red and sparkled in the fluorescent lighting, throwing tiny red spots of light against the wall.  They were perfect.  They were amazing.  They were just like the slippers Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz.  And I wanted them.

            I begged and clamored for those shoes.  When my mother said no, I screamed at the top of my lungs until she finally agreed to buy them for me if I would stop “disrupting the store” with my temper tantrums.  When the salesman asked if I wanted to wear them home, I said yes.  From that day on, Ruby Slippers were my default footwear.  I can remember a single time in my childhood where I didn’t have at least one pair.  I even branched out.  Soon I had silver, gold, and rainbow slippers.  But none of those could ever compare to the Ruby ones that appeared on my feet on so many important occasions in my life.

            The first such event was my fourth birthday.  My party was held at the Wilmette park district.  I wore a plaid dress and a matching bow and, of course, my Ruby Slippers.  As far as what we did or what flavor my cake was, I can’t remember.  But I DO remember that halfway through opening up my presents, a thought struck me:  I was getting older.  I would NEVER be three again.  The thought shocked me like nothing else I had ever experienced before.  I began to wail.  It was so unfair.  Why couldn’t I be three anymore?!  I was inconsolable.  After about an hour of sobbing, my mother declared that my party was over, and my guests went home upset.  It was not the best birthday ever.

            I had other, happier times in my Ruby Slippers.  I was Dorothy for Halloween three years in a row.  Then, I was seven, on a trip to Seattle with my parents and brother.  We had just come back from seeing the Space Needle, when my mom spotted a museum banner with Dorothy’s famous footwear on it.  We inquired inside, and discovered that the Ruby Slippers on the banner were the actual slippers that Dorothy had worn in the movie.  We hurried over to the exhibit.  I stood with my face pressed against the glass of the display case.  They were magnificent.  I felt everything that I remembered when I first saw those Ruby Slippers in the shoe store.  They were real.  Dorothy’s actual ruby slippers.  In the flesh.  Right there in front of me.  It was incredible.

            A few years passed and I declared myself too old to wear my Ruby Slippers.  They were just something left over from a childish fantasy.  I went on with my life, with no slippers on my feet.  At least, until last year.   I was in DSW, looking for the perfect shoes to match my Voice Recital dress.  Whenever I go there, I always check the sale racks.  They sometimes have really good deals on cute shoes.  On this particular day, I followed my usual routine.  I checked the sale rack before moving on to full priced shoes.  I browsed the aisles, only half paying attention, daydreaming about white strappy sandals, when something caught my eye.  A sparkle of ruby red, that brought my childhood fancies flooding back.  A pair of Ruby Slippers, and in my size too.  I stood there and stared at them, marveling at how a simple pair of shoes could represent everything I wanted as a little girl.  I took the box from its place on the shelf, and slid the slippers onto my feet.  I stood to look at myself in the mirror, and I saw myself both as I had been so many years ago, and how I was now.  I knew I had to take those slippers with me when I left the store.

Now, those slippers hold a place of honor in my closet.  I don’t wear them out much, but sometimes, when I feel like it, I put them on.  In fact, I’m wearing them right now as I write this.  I feel like somehow, they are inspiring me to write a better essay.  That, and they remind me of what I was like fourteen years ago, in that shoe store, with everything I had ever wanted right there in front of me.  Things are different now and I am almost grown.  Next year I will be leaving for college.  But in a way, I’m the same little Lizzy.  Those Ruby Slippers will always remind me of that.