The summer wind, and
dew-covered grass, and cold rushing river water, and tiny gems of tumbling sand tripping, crashing, bubbling over my toes. Looking down and seeing dry, and cracked, and dirty, and nail-polish chipped edges of my feet are memories of my favorite shoes. In the garden of my pre-school, (despite the school rules) it was in those shoes I learned to lose and had to heart-wrenchingly choose through the bruises of a world no longer black and white. And as a child, in the park, (even after stepping on broken glass) it was in those shoes where I yelled yahoos & wahoos and experimented with hairdos & curfews with friends who sadly went down other avenues. And as a teenager, in the passenger seat, (perched with hot pink nail polish on the dashboard) it was in those shoes where we talked through issues and those unending sleeved-tissues of blues and abuse where, within each other, we gladly found amuse. And in college, where I lived in flip-flops, (with a special lime-green pair for the shower) it was in those shoes where I courageously got my first tattoo, and cruised the night with friends and booze whose overuse was the realization of a breakthrough. And on that special day when I said "I do" (my bare feet tickled a trail of rose petals) it was in those shoes where down the aisle I cruised and made my debut as Mrs. Nathaniel Hugh as we celebrated our romantic, sandy rendezvous. And on that scary and exciting due date (hoping it wasn't another false alarm) it was in those shoes, in stirrups, void of the views that would deliver the news and a wave of "Woo!"s until finally I held my beautiful little honeydew. As life continues, and time marches on, and kids grow older, our life turns to death; tripping, crashing, bubbling over our timelines, I look down to see my dry, and cracked, and dirty, and arthriticly misshapen wrinkled feet, and smile at the memories shared in my favorite shoes.
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January 2022
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