#147
The shoes hurt my feet. There was a hole in one, just at the point where my big toe hit. The other had barely any sole left on the bottom. They were stained with dirt, dog things, ink, street grime. They were easy to slip on and off. I didn’t need to wear socks, they were worn in. It was the third pair of these particular shoes that I’ve had. When I found them, I bought a few pairs, knowing that I’d like them. I have one pair left in a box and I’m reluctant to get them out. I know that after a week, they will start to fade. That the white will no longer be perfect. That eventually I’ll spill or drop wine, coffee, cheese, tomato, pizza, or some other foodstuff on them. Most likely just on one of them, so the other one remains un-spotted.
I had to get rid of the old pair. They weren’t worth donating. Who would want them? They were no longer good for walking the dog because of how much they pained my feet after. They didn’t help out in the garden, where I usually just go barefoot. They lived a good life. They paid their dues. I got my money’s worth, but that’s not a phrase I’d ever use, but one that I hear around. My mom or grandpa might say it.
The shoes were white, basic canvas. Keds style, but not Keds. Superga style, but not Superga. There are a million versions of these out there, but this pair…this pair had just the right profile, the right amount of comfort. They looked great with nearly anything. But I wore them out.
Sometimes I’m not even sure why I have other pairs. Why so many shoes? But each one hides a story of where we’ve been with each other, who we’ve seen, what locals we’ve frequented. Each pair, a history. Different histories for the same person, through the shoes I wore.
I’ll save that last pair, sitting in their blue box in the office. Around it, other pairs of shoes in boxes, most of which I wear on occasion. But these…they will remain something else. Shoes to wear when there is a sign, a signal. When I elevate myself to a different plane. When life shifts and takes hold in the ways it should. I’ll break them out then.