I read a blog post this morning from the New York Times. The author briefly discussed her inability to part with a pair of old running shoes she’d worn in high school. The post also mentioned a woman who, despite her husband’s vocal opposition, has managed to hold on to at least 30 pairs of old running shoes she’s used throughout her life. Apparently, the woman has a special bond with each pair. Granted, I personally don’t know much about running shoes (seeing as my experience with the so-called sport is limited to running out of the rain or down store aisles during early morning door-buster sales), but I certainly know a thing or two about designer shoes. And while it’s a stretch for me to understand why anyone would bond with a pair of mud-stained, sweaty-smelling running shoes, I can certainly connect with the fondness one has for a pair of seriously-cute, wonderfully-fashionable heels (like the Charlotte Ronsons pictured right). Who wouldn’t?
Yet as I endeavored to put myself in this woman’s shoes, so to speak, I did come to understand how certain shoes hold different levels of significance in my life. There are definitely pairs of shoes I have that are linked to a specific memory of mine, and I even have others that I’ve associated with emotions or moods. And dare I admit I have a pair of “lucky” shoes that I wear when the need arises?
Given some thought, I’m sure we all have at least one pair of shoes that was or would be difficult to part with. For me, it’s a pair of Sanuk sidewalk-surfers that have traveled the world with me. They’ve walked many a foreign street and are a constant reminder of where I’ve been.
What’s your pair?
And if you can’t think of one, maybe it’s time to make some memories.
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