Old Friends

There is something about an old pair of sneakers when you get rid of them, you actually grieve. They're like an old friend, becoming a part of your life and serving you without complaint for as long as you've known them.

Around my house, there is a definitive procedure for shoe processing. The new pair, after they've worn off their new shine and are ready for replacement, are designated to the work shoe, being replaced by their new brethren. When its time to buy a new pair, and the transition from new to old takes place, when its time for the old pair to find their way to sneaker heaven, it is at this moment we find ourselves reminiscing, that first run or walk or bike ride when we felt their comfort for the first time, holding our hooves so well you could hear them call out "I got ya kid." Or when they moved to the yard work roll, staying just as devoted to the cause of good sole protection. Not minding the mud or the mis-step into dog poo. When you kicked that chair, you remember saying to yourself "wow, that would have hurt if I didn't have my shoes on." Yep, they probably even saved your life a time or two and we don't even know it.

 So, when its time for these faithful friends to move on, we wrap them in the new shoe box their replacement came in, reminding them of the time when they too, were new and young. We put the box back in the plastic bag and take it to the trash, finding ourselves almost setting them in the bottom instead of throwing them in like we would the Sunday paper.

Goodbye old friends. Until we meet again.