Satin Bedding Dusty
Satin Bedding Dusty
Satin Bedding Dusty
Satin Bedding Dusty
It was a rainy Saturday morning, when I finished unpacking from a recent business trip. After jiggling the door slide open my locker, I was treated desperately to find a space for a new pair of shoes he had bought.
No luck. Every time you move a dusty box, another fell.
"This is it!" I blew out loud. "This is the day I give away all of my old shoes."
The shoes I'm talking not only were shredded – many of them no longer fit. Why do I save? I have my bench and even in the lower regions of the earth closet he went.
The first box contains a pair of black satin high heels. They were my favorite eight years ago when new. I remember the night I attended had a great performance of Swan Lake by the Joffrey Ballet. My friends and I were able to go backstage and meet the dancers.
The following table held the silver-mesh heels with delicate flowers wrapped in front accounts for the first time we had a bar mitzvah child under 12 years. As I closed my eyes, he could still hear his 13 years of age, singing voice changes.
Less glamorous shoes were my training, all broken and torn, but it reminded me of the exuberant aerobics classes at the gym. Each pair of shoes was like an old photo album with vivid pictures of treasured moments.
Five years ago when I moved from Los Angeles to Kauai, Hawaii, I put all my shoes, knowing that many more did not fit (the foot seem to widen with age). At that point, I do not know why I was taking, but sitting on the edge of my bed with my black satin shoes, I knew: I did not want to discard memories of holidays, weddings, holidays, anniversaries.
I wore these shoes during some of the best years of my life. They were with me when, against all odds, returned to school, has a doctorate, wrote books, and built a private practice as a marriage, family and child counselor. It was not only the achievements that are important. It was all wonderful people which enriches every experience. By clinging to their shoes, I had been trying to hold on to memories. While moving to Kauai is a goal my husband and I work hard to achieve, apparently was still spiritually connected to my 27 years in Los Angeles.
I took my time carefully dust each pair of shoes and put them in a white plastic bag gift to me. After placing the last couple inside, a wire loop at the top twisted and reflected on the importance to create a space in my life.
I realized that I let go of what no longer fits allows experiences – and shoes – that fit the person I've become. Now my closet has room for new shoes to go with me on the road ahead.
