Old and New

A couple of weeks ago, while shopping at Target for a birthday present, I took a peek over at the shoe aisle. My absolute favorite summer sandals were in dire need of retiring, and I knew that I wouldn’t have the inner strength to trash them if a worthy replacement had not been found. As I perused the shelves, looking for something that might be worthy of taking their place, a quirky slip-on caught my eye:

It was colorful, cute, and reminiscent of the Keds I used to live in as a kid. I could see myself wearing it with shorts, Capri pants, jeans, skirts … Anything!

Perfect!

Upon finding a pair that fit my big feet (success!), I happily scooped them up under my arm and brought them to check-out.

Although my original sandals had been retired and removed from my house (so that I couldn’t have any second thoughts), and I was excited to wear my perfect new summer shoes, they sat in their Target bag for at least another week. Visits to houses with dogs would mean dirty footprints, a cluster of rainy days meant mud … And I was not keen on getting my new shoes messed up so quickly. I told myself to be patient. The glorious day would come …

When the opportunity finally presented itself in the form of some evening errands, I happily popped on my new shoes and made my way out the door. I paid a bill at Lowes, looked for cabinet door pulls at Home Depot (because Lowes didn’t carry the ones we wanted), and then took a trip to Wal-Mart …

Gosh darn it if my “perfect” shoes didn’t give me two, nasty blisters!

As I made my way home, I mourned my original sandals. Never had they given me a blister. Never had they done anything detrimental to my flat, somewhat gross-looking feet. I cursed myself for letting them go, for throwing them away because they were dirty and old. I should have known better. I should have known that these new shoes, no matter how lovely and cute they were, could just not compare. How could I have been so foolish? If only I could retrieve my original sandals from the dumpster!

Today, now that my blisters have healed, I've decided to adopt a different outlook. I peek into my closet at my new shoes and a small smile creeps across my face. They are cute. I do like them. They certainly deserve a second chance … I mean, you can’t blame a new friend for being different than an old one, that’s just the way it goes. No two people are exactly alike, so why would shoes (something even simpler) be any different?

As I wait for my next "new shoe" opportunity, and try to push the negative thoughts from my mind, I can only hope that my feet have accepted this new "friendship" as well, and have toughened up appropriately so that my heels will not be rubbed raw.