The story of my winter boots
Do you ever worry that you’ll come to rely on that lovely thing you hesitate to grant yourself?
I’m staring out of the window to ‘escape’ from my counsellor’s office. The conversation feels uncomfortable: we’re talking about winter boots.
Or rather, why I don’t have any.
I lost the habit of wearing them when my family moved to England.
It might be truer to say, my family stopped buying winter boots for me when we came to England. One could get by without them.
Then I was a Uni student, and now as a single mum…
Could you find a pair you could afford?
Maybe. But that’s money set aside for a rainy day.
And what kind of day is it today?
The window frames late-November rain.
Ouch. His point is landing.
The discipline to protect reserves ‘for a rainy day’ is keeping my feet cold and wet: not in some hypothetical tomorrow, but today already.
Why do you keep reserves?
To shore up my strength in times of need.
And today’s need?
Would some care today boost your strength for tomorrow?
My hands are clenching and unclenching, fluttering, as if trying to think a new thought.
Holding it together, getting by is what I know.
I’ve been clutching my fistful of reserves for a rainy day. For today’s kind of day.
Could I dare to loosen my hold and swap some of that fistful for warm feet?
Next week, I arrive in his office wearing knee-high boots.
What’s it like?
I’d forgotten how warm they keep you. And when a bus driving past sends paddle-water splashing, I slink on grinning!
Twenty Years After
That first purchase of grown-up winter boots for myself was twenty years ago.
Would I still worry that when these boots would run out, I may miss the tender luxury of their care? Oh, yes.
If I eat well today, tomorrow’s hunger may feel all the more poignant…
Or it may mean I have more strength today to make better provisions for tomorrow.
In retrospect, I was playing only one half of the game, as if my only power was to conserve. I was overlooking my power to generate.
That day, I re-classified boots from ‘luxury to do without’ to ‘luxury I grant myself’.
I’ve had boots for each winter since.
Of course, many luxuries of the human kind have less to do with money than the ‘luxury goods’ industry would have you believe.
They are more to do with daring to receive, to luxuriate: to pause to admire crocuses bursting through the ground, to slink off to bed one evening when you’re too tired to keep stretching the day…
The slender line between ‘luxury to do without’ and ‘luxury I will grant myself’ isn’t fixed. Every day, you can make a new choice.
What ‘luxury’ are you longing to let in?
Our Dance with Money
Keen to explore more of what goes into human decisions involving money?
I wrote a long-read article Our Dance with Money where I share some of my story with money and my efforts to create a more wholesome relationship with money in my life.
Not sure what comes next?
Sometimes the first step is just saying this matters.
A Nesting Call is a gentle conversation to meet you where you are — no fixing, no rushing, just deep listening and space to notice what wants to unfold.
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