19 Nov 2009

There’s No Place Like Home

Even at Dallas International Airport. Meet my new shoes!

I call them home, as I will likely wear them nearly every day, until I wear holes through them, and then I’ll wear them a few months more as stones and cold fall through them, just like the last pair I travelled and snuggled through. Its hard to let go of old friends, but these ones made the transition a little easier.

I found them peeking out of a shelf, sparkling shyly at me with every sequin they could muster through the denim blue, and on their very last sale, at a store of ill repute. But I saw their beauty. A pair that fitted me with precise comfort and charm. Kismet. As I slipped them on for size they whispered that if I whisked them away from the certain hell of being shoved in the back of someone’s shoe closet, they would promise to introduce me to sparkly interesting people, light up the gloomy moments and perhaps even introduce me to someone unforgettably amazing. Yes! I squeaked, as I motioned over to the cashier with my prize and the last few bucks in my wallet. “I would give up sushi for these shoes,” I thought, but luckily I didn’t have to.

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