Strappy, teeny, clicky too. How I loved a dainty shoe. You walk with a swing, feeling somehow more decadent, more female. I didn’t need a reason. I was a Career Woman.

I’d walk through Yaletown on my way to work, lovely leather bag on my shoulder, coiffed and content, vanilla steamer in one hand and croissant in the other. I was expected somewhere. I had meetings and deadlines and sushi for lunch. Sushi, lord deliver me. Tuna with mounds of fresh ginger, piping hot miso soup and endless salty edamame, never enough.

Wandering a store yesterday, I tossed aside flip-flops and slipped into a shoe of shoes past. I so would have bought these. Up the aisle, down again. Pause. Hike up the hem of jeans. Point toe, twiddle. How perfect. I’d need an occasion now, few and far between. I put them back. Goodbye, my sweets. Will we ever meet again?

Evan gets bedhead now, sticking up in all directions. His grandmother says, “You know, you could wet that and pat it down…” but I wouldn’t dare. She laughs and agrees. I adore it, along with the crudnuts that get stuck in his neck after a meal.

There were two Kates, before. The 'pretty' and the practical. Two worlds, work and life. Now there is only one, and she wears boots.