What is it about a pair of shoes that can make a girl – well, so emotional?

I’ve never really understood having an obsession with shoes; my own collection of footwear is by no means spectacular, and I wouldn’t dream of coughing up the equivalent of a car note or mortgage payment for just a single pair of Manolos or Louboutins. (Okay, so maybe I’ve daydreamed about it once or twice. I blame Carrie Bradshaw.)

Quite comfortable with my small stature, I’m typically drawn to practical, flat-soled shoes that can get me through the day. Sure, I like a bit of embellishment here or there for some added interest (a zippered heel or a metallic finish, perhaps), but I don’t give much more thought to my shoes than that. They are but a subtle accessory meant to complement an outfit rather than steal the show. So, when Olivia recently broke down over having to throw out an old pair of shoes, I had a bit of trouble relating…

These special shoes were, to me, not really special at all – a pair of black glimmer Mary Jane TOMS that had set us back only about $35 almost two years earlier. They had long since seen better days, with their layer of “glimmer” now peeled off across the toe of each shoe, revealing just a faded matte black canvas underneath. I had trimmed the loose shreds of fabric weeks ago to help disguise their tattered appearance after Olivia had adamantly declared that they were still wearable. Most days I tried to persuade her to wear one of her several other more suitable pairs of shoes, insisting that her favorite pair was just too old, too ragged, and (due to her disdain for socks) a bit too smelly. Of course, most days it didn’t work. Then, one day…

I was browsing the girls’ shoes selection on the babyGap website when I came across a pair of black leather ballet flats with the most adorable little rabbit ears and whiskers decorating the toes. I summoned Olivia to come take a look, and she was equally smitten. As we admired photos of the bunny shoes, I laid out my proposal casually.

“I think that, maybe, when these shoes come in, we can get rid of your black sparkly shoes, and you can wear these instead. What do you think?”

“Yeah, we can do that,” she agreed enthusiastically, much to my surprise. “We can donate them.”

“Well, I don’t think we can donate them because they’re pretty banged up. We should probably just throw them away.”

“Oh, okay.”

Well, hmm…that was easy, I thought. Except that it wasn’t. Like many things in life, throwing out Olivia’s favorite shoes would prove to be much easier said than done…

When the new rabbit shoes arrived, I hoped that we could ride the wave of excitement of having found them to be a perfect fit – hooray!

“Watch how fast I can run in these shoes, Mommy!” Olivia exclaimed before sprinting up and down our hallway. “Oh, I just love these shoes!” she squealed gleefully, twirling and skipping around the living room. “They are so cute!”

“I’m glad you like them, Honey.” I watch her skip cheerfully while I empty the trash and put in a fresh, new bag. But then comes the moment of truth… “Olivia, do you want to grab your black sparkly shoes and come throw them away?”

“Yes, okay,” she answers and obediently enters the kitchen with them. But she hesitates.

“Wait. I just want to say goodbye,” she tells me.

“Oh, okay. Go ahead.”

Holding them by their Velcro straps, securely (but needlessly) fastened, she gazes lovingly upon them and says sweetly, “Bye, black sparkly shoes,” before tossing them gently into the trash. You would have thought we were flushing her pet goldfish.

“Good job, Honey,” I tell her. But I see her eyes reddening and the beginning of a frown. I know what’s coming.

“That makes me so sad,” she says as she starts to cry.

“Why?” I ask softly.

“Because I love them so much,” she manages to answer before bursting into tears.

“Oh, Honey. I know how much you love them. Look, we’re going to buy you another pair just like them that aren’t all torn up, okay?”

“Okay,” is her tearful reply.

“Will it make you feel better if we keep the old ones until the new ones come in?”

“Yeah.” She nods, wiping away tears.

“Okay. Let’s put them in their little box right here in a safe place, and you can say goodbye to them when the new ones get here.”

“Okay. We can do that.”

Comforted by the thought of having a bit more time with her favorite shoes, she immediately began to calm down. When she got distracted by an episode of “Sofia the First,” I decided to snap a photo of these beloved shoes – for no apparent reason. But as I looked upon these small, torn, faded little conglomerations of rubber, canvas, and other various materials that had so dutifully protected my little girl’s feet for nearly half of her young life, I, too, found myself getting a bit emotional.

I remembered the first time she wore them – Halloween, two years ago. She was barely more than age 2. It was her first year of trick-or-treating, and I had dressed her as Veruca Salt – golden ticket and all. I thought these black sparkly Mary Janes would be perfect for her costume and that she could get plenty of everyday wear out of them afterward. (I was certainly right about the latter.) I had misjudged the sizing a little, though, so they were a bit big on her, even with her thick, white tights. But she didn’t complain; she was so excited for her first trick-or-treating adventure that she didn’t mind the occasional stumble. Of course, I was right alongside her, holding her hand to keep her upright.

After Halloween, the shoes got a bit of a break until they fit her more snugly. But once they fit her well enough that she could run in them, they became her everyday favorites. She loved to fasten the Velcro strap herself, carefully feeding it through the metal loop and pulling it back across the top of her foot to secure it firmly. It made her feel like such a big girl, and she was so proud to be able to do this by herself.

I looked upon these little memory keepers, that I had once so casually condemned, now with a sudden new appreciation. I adjusted their positioning on the piano bench for the benefit of better lighting and snapped my photo. I then carefully returned them to their box and put them away in a safe place…where they could remain for just a little while longer…until we are both ready to bid them farewell.

 

(September 2017)

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