Dear Shoes

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Dear Shoes,

I fear tonight is the night we say goodbye. We’ve been together nearly two summers, and I think we’ve just grown too far apart. I’ll always cherish the memories we shared together.

We met at LL Bean. I entered looking for sandals, but you caught my glance. You were humble, but so cute. Simple, white canvas on the outside, but bright plaid within. I bypassed your buddies – red, blue and green – because you stole my heart. I was about to leave you, but some kind salesperson told me you were on sale. I couldn’t leave you then – not so another could bring you home. I wore you out of the store with a promise to keep you nice for the fall.

But I didn’t expect for you to steal my heart so completely. Adjusting was hard, but the blisters healed. You can barely see the scars now. Our first adventure was Girls Camp. Cold mornings, warm evenings, you were there. From emergency runs to the Lodge, or kicking around the lake, you were always by my side. You adjusted well, and I was proud of how well you stood up to the Chucks and Converse we met along the way. You’re tough. You’ve weathered rocks, horses, water and mud well.

We dressed up and we dressed down. I wore you to a stake dance where I danced with friends with the music pumping. We traveled to the Capital, where we ran from Smithsonian to Smithsonian, pausing only in the Holocaust museum, where I choked up. You know why – you saw the others. We walked alone through there, I was someone else for a while, and so where you. There were happier times to be had though, but we remember those quiet hours.

You were with me at High Hopes, when we gave piggy-back rides to little kids and chased after ponies (and horsies too). Sometimes, on the quieter days, I let you come to work with me. But only if it wasn’t too muddy. You came to New York with me on all the crazy family adventures. Into the Gorge, on the boat, kicking around the places I love so much. Thanks for that.

In the spring I bought a new pair of sneakers, and left you behind when I went to Philadelphia. I felt guilty the whole time – I know you would have loved it, and I missed you. But I came back, and we got back together. I told myself we had just needed a break. It was true.

You came to college with me. You rode halfway here up on the dashboard. You were with me when I moved in. You met new people with me. You were my Adventure shoes. The shoes I put on for my seven am class. You were worn just enough that I could press my toes against the ground without you squeaking. When I was waiting for a friend, I tattooed 9 little hearts on your right half. They’re tiny, but nine is my lucky number, and you’re my lucky shoes. I wanted people to know that you were mine. You came with me to the first soccer game of the season, where our Knights beat the other team. You were there when I sounded weird for cheering so loudly and passionately. I couldn’t explain it, but it was great. And who doesn’t love soccer guys? You know me. ;)

You got me through my first Virginia thunderstorm. I was all jumps, but you got me back home safely. You were soaked through, but you did your job. Thanks for that. You didn’t let me slip.

You got me through a few snow flurry storms too. They were unexpected, but you did really good. Not  your best, but you were getting old. I can forgive that. You made me feel cute, even though you were beat up and worn through. When I was down, you were the ones I reached for. You were the shoes I put on when we have to go out at midnight. I always go for you. You’re my kicking around, adventure time shoes. You were with me when I learned how to toe the line, to assert myself. You were there when I went for a walk angry. When I went for a walk with friends that was just supposed to be a few minutes, but lasted hours. You knew what I was thinking, how my thoughts were like the pebbles we kicked. You know me perfectly.

But maybe too perfectly. Lately, I feel like we’re growing apart. We know eachother too well, and can’t get past one-another’s faults. I went on an adventure today in the rain. My fault – I didn’t think about how you would feel about it. You’re soaked through, hours later. You’re by the door, and I keep looking at you. It makes me sad. I think tonight’s the night. I think we’ve got to let go. We need to end it. You’ll be in my heart always, I’ll remember you fondly. I’d like to say that it’s not you, it’s me, but we know that isn’t true. We’re both to blame. We share this equally, so we must part on equal terms.

Thanks for the amazing memories. I’ll never forget you. I don’t understand why this is so hard, but we have to do this. Do you understand? I’ve thought about it – it’s been a long time coming. I just think we need to move on. I’ll love you forever. So long, dear shoes. Be well. Keep toeing the line.

Love always,

Meg

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