If you follow me on Facebook, you might have noticed a status update the other day I posted about the little man and his new shoes. Last week, Little Man finally started grunting and saying “Ouch” when we put his New Balances on him; so I figured it was time to buy some new kicks. We went out to the only store on the island that sells any kind of moderate selection of shoes to pick out a new pair. He chose some really cute (and affordable) Columbia digs, and he even wore them out of the store. He sat in the backseat of the car on the way home stroking his new shoes and showing us (repeatedly) his “big boy shoes.”
However, once we got home, and the new had worn off (you know what the attention span of a toddler is like) he kept coming back up to me with his old shoes and asking for me to “pwease put on my foot.”
I was a little bit shocked and slightly
annoyed after spending $50 on new shoes surprised that he had become so attached to a pair of sneakers.
But then I realized that I was kind of the same way.
Not about his shoes (though seeing him go from a size 6.5 to an 8—with growing room—is kind of sad from a mommy perspective), but about my own.
I have owned the same pair of Clark Wallabees for seven years. Yep. You read that right SEVEN years.
I finally caved and bought myself a new pair of shoes the other day when we bought Little Man’s. But, still couldn’t bare to part with my beloved Clarks when we got back home.
It seems kind of juvenile to be so attached to something as insignificant as shoes. These weren’t a special gift from anyone…quite the opposite actually. They were a Christmas present from an ex-boyfriends family back in 2004. An ex-boyfriend who I had a crazy, nasty breakup with during college; and the same ex-boyfriend whose family asked me to leave a funeral last summer because I wasn’t welcomed there.
So, yeah. That isn’t a reason for holding onto them.
These shoes have been with me everywhere since 2004.
They were a part of my first serious relationship (see above); they carried me through the transition from High School to college. They’ve been all over the college campus I attended, in Frat Houses and college bars. They’ve been to the beach and back 100 times.
They were with me on my first date with my (now) husband. With me the first time we kissed…the first time we said “I Love You.” They were with me on our Honeymoon in Saint Augustine, Florida. They were with me when I saw my first pink lines with the little man. They were with me the day that I told my husband goodbye as he left for Coast Guard Training two weeks after we said, “I do.”
They’ve carried me through separation, through long periods of trial and struggle within my personal life and within my marriage. They’ve been there during my battle with PPD; they’ve been there for warm welcoming reunions after eight months of separation.
They’ve trekked all across the United States—from Saint Petersburg, Florida and Alabama, all the way across the country through Tennessee, Missouri, Nebraska, Iowa, Idaho, Utah and Washington State. They’ve met bloggy friends in person; and been to the top of Space Needle.
They’ve trekked the frozen roads of Alaska. They’ve flown thousands of miles in airplanes.
These puppies have been with me through some of the most significant changes, struggles and triumphs in my life.
And they’re still in pretty good condition.
I probably won’t be able to part with these. Just because of the history that we share. I probably won’t get much wear out of them anymore either (they’re kind of starting to stink, if you want to know the truth…and they’re suede. So they can’t be washed). But they’ll sit in my closet, reminding me of where I’ve been in life, where the roads have taken me.
Each scratch, each lose and missing piece of fabric…serves to remind me that no matter what comes your way in life, no matter how rocky the road may be, no matter what kind of obstacles you encounter…as long as you have a good strong foundation, you can walk through it. You might not be able to run (cause let’s face it…the rubber bottoms on these aren’t the easiest for running in), but you can make it through. You can overstep. You can come out on the other side.
I bought new shoes. Some Merrells. They’re uber-comfy and I’m loving them to pieces already.
I wonder where they’ll have taken me in seven years?
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*Disclosure: I was not compensated or paid to mention the Clarks or Merrells Brand in this post. Although I do own and love both of these brands of shoes, I’m pretty sure that neither manufacturer is aware of my existence.