Red Rain Boots

A young girl sits beside her grandmother on a front porch swing. She sits still and patient, listening to her grandmother tell her, what she believes to be, a tall tale. Clad in her usual purple coat and her cherry red rain boots, the little girl looks out past the front yard, across the road to the neighbor’s field. The field has been dormant for quite some time, overgrown with grassy weeds and arbitrary stalks of corn.

“Look! There! I see a big black horse and a steady plow.” the grandmother exclaims.

“What else do you see grandmother?” the young girl asks, completely immersed in her grandmother’s tale.

“Well…” she says, “I see a fine man coaxing along his horse as they work to dig up the good soil. Slowly they work along side together, as a team. They are getting the soil prepared for growing.”

The grandmother points across the road at the empty, barren field. The field is almost completely lifeless, except for one standing tree right in the center. The little girl squints her eyes to see into the field and peer out at the big horse.

“Oh no!” exclaims the grandmother, as the little girl jumps in fright. The sound of her grandmother’s shout sends a wave of fear across the girl’s skin.

“What is it?” the girl whispers, stone faced and pale.

“The farmer has hit a fallen tree. The horses are gone! The tree, the tree!” the grandmother shrieks.

The girl looks out to the empty field again, she sees the small a tree with falling red leaves in the middle of the field.

Again, she asks her grandmother, “What is it?”

The grandmother replies grumpily, “The farmer, he’s alone and standing by the fallen oak tree. His crops will never be planted without his horse and the large stump in the way!”

The little girl laughs, “Oh Grandmother you scared me!”

The grandmother turns the girl, “Can you see the farmer?”

The little girl smiles and replies, “Yes, yes I can.”

A large farm house bell tolls across the property. The little girl shoots up and hugs her grandmother

“I have got to go home now,” she says, “my mother is ringing the bell.”

The grandmother rocks the porch swing and whispers, “Go home then. Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Of course!” says the little girl as she jumps off the porch into the front yard.

The grandmother makes a heart a with her hands and the little girl reciprocates the same action. Then the young girl darts off straight towards her house. She rushes through her grandparent’s yard, past the old tree swing and the pole barn. She hops over the small bridge near the edge of the woods. She picks up speed as she rounds the corner to the house. Rigid and bleak, the house lights splash onto her face. She slows her pace and settles her hands into her purple jacket. Her red rain boots covered in mud from the trek through the woods. The young girl reaches the front door. The storm door squeaks open and the young girl shakes off her red rain boots before stepping inside.

The young girl’s parents sit watching TV in the living room.

“Dinner is on the stove. You might need to microwave it because it has been sitting out!” exclaims her mother from across the hall. The girl heads toward the kitchen and gets a plate down from the cabinet. She fills it with the spaghetti from the stove and places it in the microwave to heat up a bit.

“Where are your boots?!” Her mother shouts from the front hall.

“Outside the door, they are all muddy.” the young girl states.

“Well, you better clean them off before going out tomorrow!” the mother yells.

The young girl grabs her plate from the microwave and sits down at the table. As she eats her supper, she hears her parents quarrel over the television channel. She finishes her meal and heads toward the stairs to get ready for bed. On the way up she remembers her red rain boots. She heads back down the stairs and opens the squeaky storm door. It is now dark outside. The crisp night air whacks the young girl straight in the face. The air is nearly too cold to breathe. She takes her red rain boots to the hose by the side of the house. The water is cold and chills the girl’s hands. As she rinses her red rain boots, she glances behind her towards her grandmother’s house.

“Your plate!” The little girl hears the mother cry from inside.

She quickly finishes off the boots and stumbles to the front door. She slams open the storm door and sets the boots down in the front hall.

“You did not clear your plate and put it in the dishwasher!” her mother yells.

“Sorry.” the young girl states.

She walks past her mother and heads toward the kitchen sink.

“Gosh!” her mother huffs with an eye roll as she heads back into the living room.

The girl scraps off her plate and listens into the other room.

“I swear you’d think she was five, and she’s almost twelve!” her father declares.

Her Mother chimes in, “She can’t do anything for herself and she only wears those stupid rain boots.”

The parents return to laughing together on the couch as the young girl finishes the rest of the dishes and starts the dishwasher. As she makes her way towards the stairs a second time, her parents call to her from the living room.

“Don’t I get a hug?” her father asks with a pouty grin.

She gives her parents both a hug and runs to the front hall. She grabs her wet red rain boots and sees a puddle on the wood floor. She sighs and heads upstairs to fetch a towel.

From the stairway the young girl can hear her mother yell, “What is this?!”

“I am getting a towel now.” the girl states.

“You better clean up this mess!” the mother yells from the base of the stairs.

The girl hurries, with a towel in hand, to the front hall. She soaks up the water and notices some dirt from the woods had followed her inside the door. She wipes that up as well. The girl heads to the laundry room to put the towel in the basket.

“Why is that nice towel full of mud?!” her mom exclaims on her way out the kitchen.

“I cleaned up the mess.” The little girl states. She throws the towel into the basket and runs up the stairs. She gets to her red rain boots and wipes them off with another towel. The girl places her red rain boots in a corner in her room and gets into bed.

The next morning the father barges into the girl’s room and turns the lights on.

“Get up.” he shouts.

The girl wanders out of bed and puts on a nice dress and her red rain boots. She starts down the stairs and gets into the car to head out for the day with her parents. While in the car the girl whispers, “I forgot my purple jacket”

“What?” her mother says.

“I forgot my purple jacket.” the girl states.

“Well, we are going on without it!” her mother utters.

The family arrives back at their house. The girl rushes inside and bangs the storm door. She goes into the closet and grabs her purple jacket.

“Don’t slam the door!” her father yells from behind her.

“I am going to Grandmother’s” the girl states.

“Do not come back late.” her father frowns.

The young girl skips to her grandmothers, clad in her red rain boots and her purple jacket. She rounds the edge of the woods, jumps over the bridge, and sprints through the back of her grandparents’ yard.

“Do you see the horses?” The little girl can hear her grandmother ask as she comes around the front porch.

“Yes, grandmother.” the young girl smiles, not even bothering to look into the field across the road.

“Look the farmer and his plow. He loves those horses. They work tirelessly all day.” the grandmother exclaims.

The girl sits next to her grandmother on the porch swing. She squints out into the field, but then she directs her gaze to her grandmother. The grandmother’s voice trails off as the girl peers at her face. Her grandmother looks older today. The wrinkles are deeper, her eyes are shallow, and the complexion of her skin is paler. Her hair appears lighter and her lips thin. The girl comes out of her daze as her grandmother cries, “Oh no!”

Shivers fill the young girl’s body as her attention darts to the field.

“The tree?” the girl asks.

“The tree!!” her grandmother exclaims.

They turn to face each other and the girl meets her grandmother’s eyes.

“The tree!” the grandmother repeats more quietly.

The young girl grasps her grandmother’s hand. She whispers, “Don’t worry the farmer will be ok.”

The grandmother’s thin lips turn upward into a slight smile and she turns her head back toward the field. The small tree that had a bit of red color yesterday is now bare and appear dead. The farm house bell tolls.

“I need to head home” the young girl says.

“Go home then. Will you be back tomorrow?” her grandmother asks.

“Yes, I will.” the young girl says.

The girl jumps from the porch to the front yard and makes her way home, scuffling along in her red rain boots.

In the night the girl hears a scream. She rises from her bed and heads out of her bedroom to find her parents huddled around the phone.

“Go back to bed!”, they shout.

The young girl makes her way back to her bedroom. She manages to shut her eyes and get back to sleep.

In the morning, the girl rises to the sound of the silence. She pops up alarmed that her father is not at the door. She rushes down the stairs and looks outside the window. She sees the ground covered in white snow. She notices that she forgot to bring her red rain boots in last night. In her pajamas, she opens the storm door to go rinse off her boots.

“Where are you going?” her mother asks from the kitchen.

“My boots.” the young girl states.

“Come in here.” her mother says.

The girls sets her boots down outside again in the frigid snow and closes the storm door. She shuffles into the kitchen. Her parents are there together holding hands.

“Grandmother is gone.” her father explains through weary eyes. “You do not need to be over there anymore.” he states.

The little girl, unsure of how to accept the information, swipes her purple jacket from the closet and slams open the front door. She pushes her feet into her red rain boots that are filled with wet snow. Tears stream endlessly down her cheeks. The young girl runs. She runs around the corner of the woods, over the bridge, and through the yard. She pauses at the front porch to look out at the field. It appears just as empty as before. However, the tree in the middle has fallen over and is buried deep in the snow. The young girl falls into the snow in her grandmother’s front yard. In frustration and utter despair the girl sinks into the fresh snow until the only visible sign of her is her red rain boots.

A decade later, the girl opens her apartment closet and a small pair of red rain boots falls from a shriveled box. She picks them up from the ground and sighs. She looks down at her feet, which now wear black boots. She takes her red rain boots to her sink and washes them off. She dries them with a hand towel. Her apartment doorbell rings. She sets the red rain boots aside and heads to the door. She opens it to find her friends.

“Ready to go to the mall?” her friend asks.

The girl pauses and replies, “I have some things I need to do today.”

Her friends leave. The girl grabs her new purple jacket out of the closet and she carries the red rain boots to her car. She drives out of the suburbs and into the country. She does not stop driving till she reaches a little farm house with a porch swing. She gets out of the car and sits on the porch swing. The girl shuts her eyes peacefully. She opens them and looks out past the road to the empty field. The fallen tree is now covered by weeds and grasses, it barely visible anymore. The girl looks down at the red rain boots in her hands. She carries them back to the car and drives a bit further. She stops at a small cemetery. The girl gets out, grabs the red rain boots, and walks towards the back near the forest. There, next to a fallen old tree is two grave stones. One a bit older then the other. The girl places the red rain boots next to the one on the right. She steps back and sees the one on the left has a horse shoe propped up against it.

“I love you Grandmother and Grandfather.” the girl whispers.

The girl makes her way to her car, empty handed. Leaving behind her old red rain boots.