Perfect Pair of Shoes

Metaphorically speaking, I guess I am trying on shoes. I know perfection in anything is a fallacy; however, there must be a perfect pair for me. At least that is what I have been led to believe. So I have gone through my adult life trying on shoes in my quest to find "my perfect shoes." The shoes for which I search must be classy but comfortable and suitable in the boardroom, the ballroom or on the playground playing with kids. They must be appropriate for walking on the beach, hiking a mountain trail or frolicking in a meadow with tall grasses. They must be able to endure hardship and maintain their style and refinement, though a few scratches and scrapes are acceptable and expected. I promise to take good care of my shoes, giving them an abundance of love and attention. I don't expect these shoes to complete my ensemble but they must compliment any attire required in any given situation.


I have mistakenly believed I had found the perfect shoes in the past, only to get them home and realize that the manufacturer’s promise and pledge was nothing more than false advertisement. And there have been a couple of instances where I knew the pair I had chosen was not what I needed or knowing that the manufacturer’s promise was false. But I invested in the chosen shoes convincing myself that they would suffice; only to discover I suffered from “buyer’s remorse.” I found the perfect pair once, but they were not available to me. You see, they were in an exclusive store that catered to a specific type of elite shoppers. Though I feel most of us fall into some category of elite; of this particular type of elite, I was not one.


I recall as a child, the pure joy of going barefooted. Running through the grass, dirt and sand. Of course, occasionally encountering a "sticker" or stones, and sometimes walking across asphalt or rocks could be a little uncomfortable or painful. I felt such delight in being totally unencumbered. But then society's ideas made me feel I needed those shoes; I must have those shoes to be normal, to fit their definition of acceptable. And I must admit, having shoes can sometimes be so very comforting and reassuring and even a lot of fun at times. Now the question; do I shun society's ideas and forgo the comfort, reassurance and occasional joy and revert to that child who loved running through the soft grass unfettered and barefooted?

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SLG
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