I tossed a pair of shoes into the garbage yesterday. They were 12 years old, quite worn out, and well-traveled.Those shoes saw many nature trails, several miles of English road, helped me climb a church spire, and carried me home in a drunken stupor on more than one occasion.
They turned into lawn-mowing shoes since we moved into the house and were replaced as my everyday sneakers twoce-over since then.
The air cushion had completely fallen out of one of the shoes, so I walked with a slight limp whenever I wore them. There was no tread left on the bottom, so walking on grass that was even slightly wet became hazardous.
And with my record of outdoor injuries, I felt it best to avoid that.
So the shoes are gone. Shoes that have been a part of my life for the birth of 2 children. A part of my life when I broke up with a longtime girlfriend, and the courting of my eventual wife. They've been through the troubles, the happy times, and a whole mess of other things that have happened in between.
In some ways, the shoes are like me. Falling apart a little, feeling --and looking-- worn out. More than a few dings, scrapes and stains along the way.
But they still provided me some support.
1 comment:
I don't think I've ever had a pair of shoes that long...or any piece of clothing, save for the nightshirt I wore when I gave birth to my daughter...why I hang on to that, I'll never know. It is just some cheap cartoon nighty with Tweety and Sylvester on it. I haven't worn it in years as it is very threadbare. I just thought it was neat that I was able to choose to deliver in my own clothing. I had little control over other things in my life (or felt like that) so this was one thing I was determined to see through.
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