Blue Suede Shoes? No, Red Satin Heels
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Nerves shook through my body as I prepared to introduce Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders to 400 people in my town. I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Senator Sanders cleared his throat, and I looked up with concern. “Your shoes are beautiful, Miss Danaher, but be careful not to trip on your way out there.” He said, eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. I laughed, looking down the red satin heels I had chosen for the event. I knew that, despite my inherent clumsiness, I would not trip. These were my lucky heels.
I received my heels one morning before a piano recital in sixth grade. They were a gift from my mother that also served the practical purpose of helping me reach the pedals of a grand piano much larger than I was used to. Standing before the full length mirror in my parents’ bedroom, I slipped on the heels. That’s when the magic of the heels began for the first time. I felt like a princess, and in my world of Cinderellas and Snow Whites, no harm ever came to princesses. I imagined myself simply unable to be anything less than perfect in those shoes, and like a true princess would I conduct myself with infallible grace and charm. I performed Fur Elise that night, and my fingers remembered everything that my...
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