As I was getting dressed to go to work this morning, I started thinking about my father. When I was a young girl, he would come home from work, lay down on the sofa, and call for one of his children to come in and take off his boots for him. I always hated that job. He was very particular about how to do it--you had to untie the boot strings, then take them off of all the hooks, then loosen the parts of the strings that went through the holes just so, without letting the ends come out of the first hole. Then you had to wiggle the boots back and forth until you could slip them off.
I don't know why I hated that task so much. Maybe it was the way he ordered us around while we, as small children, tried our best to do it right, so that he would not get mad. Whatever the reason, I just hated doing it.
Now that I have a job where I have to wear boots, whenever I see them on my feet, it makes me think about my old man. And I sincerely hope that I am not like him.