Snowboots and Stilettos

She told me to wear boots, so I did.  They were exquisite 4 ½” black leather stiletto heeled ankle boots that I found at this great little shoe boutique in Paris.  She showed up at my front door in snow boots. 

It was nearing the holiday season, and Paige was determined to follow the Stovall family Christmas tree tradition, which, like most Stovall traditions, involved tools, the outdoors, an unpaved road, a little bit of dirt under the fingernails, and a blister or two.   

Always up for any adventure, I was more than happy go with her accompany her on the trek for her “dream” Christmas tree. Because James had to work almost every Saturday, and this wintery Saturday was no different, Paige and I geared up for our weekly escapade, though I didn’t quite understand what was in store for me… growing up, we never had real Christmas trees.  We never went to a tree lot at the local grocery store parking lot, let alone trudged through knee deep snow in the freezing cold to pick one out and chop it down.   

First stop, the North Bend Ace Hardware store…to get the necessary accoutrements.  A hatchet, some twine, and some diet coke for fuel.  

Next stop, the ranger station in North Bend.  The ranger was adamant that we not drive her beautiful blue Honda Civic, with tires not even fit for dry roads, up the canyon.  “At least get chains,” he begged.  We just giggled and got back in the car, heading up the pass.  What did he know about driving in snow?  He was facing down two pros…Wyoming and Montana in the same car.  Our dads would hide under their covers in embarrassment if we couldn’t handle those roads. 

We drove up the pass.  We took a twisty back road.   We took a turny back road.  We took a rough, bouncy dirt back road.

Oh, crap.  We drank way, way, way too much diet coke.  There was no way we were holding it.  We pulled the car over, and Paige hiked up a small hill.  I wobbled up the incline my stilettos.  Paige played watch dog while I tinkled.   Then we switched.   Just as she pulled down her jeans and squatted, a car came barreling down the road.  Trying to block her from their view, I slowly stumbled over the rocky terrain, yelling to warn her, but it was too late.  Our cover was blown, and she was exposed.  Literally.  We laughed, barreled over,  till we were blue in the face before getting back in the car.   “Oh well,” she shrugged her shoulders, “what can you do?”

 “Are you sure you don’t want to change your shoes?”, she asked me.  Change into what, flip flops?  I was going to be just fine.  It wasn’t like we were going hiking…

We drove until we couldn’t drive anymore.  Into the forest.  The woods.  The cold, and the snow.   And then, pressing our luck, we drove a little further. 

“Paige Stovall Cahoon,” I threatened, “I am not pushing.  If you get this car stuck, you can push it out yourself.”  My arms were folded and my tone was very scary.  She opened her mouth and tilted her head back slightly, her dark eyes sparkling, and laughed.  “Oh, good Princess,” she said, “good, good buddy.”  Her giggles came from deep inside her belly, and were full of sincere love mixed with pure child like amusement.   I giggled back.

We parked at the bottom of a rugged, tree covered mountain.  Drawing a deep breath, we began our hike.  Looking back to make sure I was okay, she cleared a path up the rugged terrain.   Soon Paige stopped.  Just like Charlie Brown’s Christmas, a small, almost naked tree seemed to call to us as a golden light from the cloudy sky fell up on it, as it blossomed, and magically filled with sparkling lights, right before our eyes.  Above us, angels sang in the heavens.    It was fate.  Grabbing the hatchet, she plopped down on her knees in the snow and began to chop.  And sing Christmas songs.  And chop. And sing.  And chop.  No progress.  She tried again, then once more.  Dagnabit, it just wasn’t working.  The sun was going down, and we were in the middle of nowhere.  Not the place to get stuck.  But, that stubborn lady was not leaving without the tree, even if she had to tie to the bumper of her car and pull it out.  I can’t let down my dad, she told me; she was so excited to tell him the tale of the first Seattle Christmas tree. 

And so we continued; and by we, I mean she.  She chopped and pushed and pulled the poor little tree until it snapped in half.  Almost in a trance, I stood in the snow and secretly loved everything about the moment she had created for me; my friend, the fresh air, the sound of the snow falling from the trees.  The dirt.  Then, Victory!!  Hooray!  The tree was down. 

We drug it back to the car, down the mountain and through the snow.  Well, Paige drug it through the snow while I teased her.  Really, who could expect me to help in those boots?  Not Paige.  She just wanted me to be with her, to be me.   

Two adventurers who had each conquered the mountains of Snoqualmie Pass in different way that day, we turned up the tunes and sang along with Steppenwolf. 

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me…

And so was our friendship; a great melding of disparate souls, one of us practical and ready to tackle whatever came her way, and one who preferred not to tackle anything at all, but to make sure everyone looked pretty and had cute shoes to wear while enjoying the ride. 

And, the company.

Posted by: Princess Stephanie