Emme's Cowboy Boots

It's funny how somehow the DNA of family members is embedded in our children. It's funny how it shows - how it shows up undeniably and unmistakably in our children.

I have an uncle - my Uncle Lorenzo. He is about six feet tall. He has long hair, a beard and the high forehead and long nose of a Spaniard. Put a sword in his hand, give him some lace cuffs, and he could be Don Quixote.

My uncle has always looked this way. It's simply his style. His shoes of choice are cowboy boots. He has worn pointy toed cowboy boots as far back as I can remember. My uncle is a storyteller. He tells his stories with relish. When the drama escalates, he gets up from his chair and acts out his tales in the heat of the moment. I can see in my minds eye him lifting up one long leg and cocking his boot clad foot, preparing to kick a butt or two.

My uncle is awesome. He smokes cigars.

I think Emme has a bit of my uncle in her. She has recently acquired a pair of brown cowboy boots. I bought them for her to model a cowboy Santa set that I had been planning to make. (maybe next year?) Anyway, she LOVES those cowboy boots and wears them everywhere with everything. She looks pretty damn good too. She has long legs and narrow hips just like my uncle. She can tell stories too, just like my uncle. She is awesome, just like my uncle.

The other day, I was walking down the hall toward her bedroom. I spotted her from a few feet away. She was sitting on the floor near the wastebasket. She had just put on her jeans and was preparing to don her boots. I saw her grab them, pull the wastebasket toward her and empty out about a half cupful of sand from each one - just like a cowboy.

I left her alone, grateful to have witnessed that small personal moment - so rich with memories of my uncle - my grand, wonderful Uncle Lorenzo.