A few months back, I got new shoes. They are basically useless for walking in their condition, with their soles depleted of rebound in elasticity and give, and their canvas outsides catching up. Usually this isn’t a big deal. But I realized, my old shoes had been with me from just a few weeks after my daughter’s birth.
It’s crazy to see such a thing, knowing the age in comparison to my daughter, whom is still ‘new’, and will be for the coming years, by standards of people.
It makes me think about how amazing our bodies are in that, not only do they take the wear and tear of everyday so well, but also, that they actually improve during these ages, still growing into something even stronger.
Anyhow, there is a sentimental element here. The shoes I wore in getting to know her.
And it’s odd because I am not one for sentimentality towards objects. But for some reason it’s super strong for me with anything involving my kid. I have never really known sentimentality before her, except for things surrounding the loss of my friend, Patrick.
I put off throwing these shoes away for months because of it, and even then, second-guessed myself and felt bad about it for a while.
But it’s time for a chapter of new memories.