They’re Writing Songs of Shoes, But Not for Me

One day you awake and realize one of the shoes you have is full of holes. It took a long time, yet it was a surprise. You figure out that other shoes will do. So, you slide into another shoe. And keep going.

Down the road, that shoe goes missing. One’s resources are a bit limited, but, resourceful, a reasonable substitute is found. It belongs to someone else, but they are willing to share, even if it’s not a perfect fit and may be awkward at times. It’s surely not like having one’s own shoe, the one meant for your foot. Still, it is far better than having no shoe at all.

Mismatched, one learns to adjust to this arrangement. It becomes good. Comfortable. Right. Happy even. You like this shoe. This shoe is good. This shoe might be the best shoe you’ve ever had.

Not long after realizing this, the call comes that this shoe is lost. And it’s not coming back.

And for a while, you forget how to walk – what feet are even for.

For a long while.

Until one day, you awake and realize this foot is going to have to learn to be tough by walking naked and unprotected.

And so. You do.

Copyright 2013 © Christina Caine. All rights reserved.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 27th, 2013 at 5:41 pm and is filed under Gershwin, Grief, Loss. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

1 Comment

  1. Scott Caine says: many layers.

    ... on July December 2nd, 2013

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