Yes. I am wearing two different boots, one black, the other brown.
I'll give you credit for noticing; not many people do.
I saw amusement on your face as you whispered to your neighbor, and then both of you were staring. Laughing. Judging. I could see it in the way you whispered.
I'll admit, I'd wonder too if I saw someone with odd shoes. Chalk it up to absentmindedness, quirkiness or a new form of hipster.
But I wouldn't laugh at them. I might even ask them about it.
Everyone has a story, motivation for the things they do.
You had no way of knowing I had cancer, or that surgery left my foot large and swollen, which makes normal shoe wearing impossible. The reason my shoes don't match, is that in order to find something to accommodate the skin graft, I had to buy boots three sizes bigger than normal. I hope you have enough imagination to realize where this is going. On occasion, I wear extra socks so that my right foot fits, resulting in uniformity of footwear, but sometimes I want to wear one nice shoe.
You see, you judged too quickly. Without knowing my full story, you looked at a slice of it, and I became the butt of a joke.
Honestly, I don't mind that much. If it gave you a funny anecdote, fine. I often joke about it.
So, why am I writing you?
There is a deeper issue than laughing at the unconventional.
We live in a world where tolerance is frantically being drilled into everyone's vocabulary and actions. It's a nice thing to talk about, but much harder to practice.
Our world is also full of reality TV, America's Funniest Home Videos, and endless posts on Youtube of unfortunate incidents occurring. We are trained to be spectators, forgetting that the people we mock and ridicule are precisely that: People. Skin, bones, blood, hearts, feelings, brains, souls.
I am blessed to be surrounded by a lovely community who know my story. I can laugh at the fact that you had nothing better to do than gossip about my footwear. I don't care what you think about me, I'll never see you again.
But I'm worried about the next person you'll gossip about. Maybe they will be hurt by the derisive whispers and giggles. Remember, you don't know their story.
And, believe it or not, sometimes I actually wear shoes that match.
