Mondays are just young Fridays

A new pair of shoes last week, I went out looking for something sort of casual, kind of sneaker-ish, but not. I’ll need a new pair of kicks for summer, but will wait until the weather more closely resembles the season before I step out for a new pair of Vans.
  I wanted something comfortable, and my eyes settled quickly on a pair of dessert boots. This was the kind of comfort I have known before.
  Dessert Boots; it’s probably the fifth or sixth pair I’ve owned in my lifetime. I know I had a pair in Grade 11, and another pair in Grade 8, and who knows how many pairs my mother bought my in my younger days?
  I was about 7 when I got my first wore them. I know my brother got a pair too. I think The Monkees wore them; thus they were good enough for me. It was about this age I also began my lifetime love of paisley shirts.
  The ankle-high boots (presumably tall enough to keep sand out as you trekked across desserts) were supremely comfortable, tan-coloured, sort of suede, crepe soles, and close to indestructible. Kids are hard on their shoes with all that biking and running around, exploring, everywhere in all conditions. I’m sure I would have grown out of the early pairs before they had fully worn out.
  My mother always told me to buy quality shoes. She said they were better for your feet, that they would last longer, and it was important, especially with shoes, because you spent so much time on them.
  I think her words run through my head each time I am trying on shoes as I choose function over fashion.
  I know I heard her this time, as I purchased a style that she had once chosen for me. They must be sensible shoes.
  And the comfort comes from some of those brief memories that flash through my life on a regular basis. Beyond the shoes, this is the kind of comfort I have truly known before.

05/15/2017                                                   j.g.l.

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