I have a collection of shoes. Two years ago I didn't have more than one or two pairs, but now I have quite a few more. I have bought a few of them as methods of feeling better about myself, but above all, in my collection, I have one sacred pair. Or at least they feel sacred.
Several times since I bought them two years ago, I have taken down the box they sit in, opened it and tried so desperatly to wear them, but in two years, I think I have only really worn them a half a dozen times or so. I bought them shortly after Brady (my first boyfriend) and I started dating; my English 30 class was going to Theatre Calgary for "A Christmas Story," and we were supposed to look clean and pretty. Totally fun. It was my first time in the theatre, and I even had a boy I was swooning over to hold my hand. His was the first hand I ever held. On the way home, I was tired and I rested my head on Brady's shoulder, which was yet another first for me. The whole night, I could not stop smiling and I felt--I don't know--the way you feel when you're with your first real boyfriend.
We ended up breaking up at the end of the following summer, which was pretty hard on me for a long time. Afterwards, it was like he was a completely different person, and I was so angry with him. I became this horrible person towards him; I was a different person too. It took me a long time to realize that out break-up was inevitable; I wanted to teach and see the world, and he wanted to do something--else. I don't know if he really knows even now, but that doesn't matter; one day he'll really figure it out. But regardless, I knew I didn't want to be with him long term and even now, have no desire to be married by a certain age. It just took me a while to realize that my desires and plans for my life leave little room for a significant other or any form, let alone one that doesn't know what he wants to do with his life.
It was nearly a year before I had the sense enough about me to apologize to him. We talk now and get along fine, and I am so happy for him and his new girlfriend, though I still don't understand why he moved to Winnipeg.
After we broke up, I couldn't wear my fancy shoes. They were ordained in one of the more special moments of my life, and I didn't want to marr them with unimportant memories or bitter thoughts. I would put them on from time to time in an attempt to wear them, but they have this sort of feeling about them. I don't really know how to explain it; they feel filled with this pure, first love innocence. Like, they seem to exude it; they feel like shoes to be saved for moments that one needs an instant injection of life again. I stashed them in their box at the top of my closet, and brought them with me to BC.
I haven't worn them in a year, or so, but I took them down tonight. I plan on wearing them to my landlord's girl's Christmas concert. Not for their concert, but for me. I feel like in the past few months, I have been so broken emotionally, so lost; but I am okay now. It was just growing pains, of course, and some of them were very painful. But I grew, and most importantly, I did not let myself down one bit. I succeeded when I thought it would be so hard. I have friends here, and I had a family to decorate a tree with, and so many good memories of people I only had three months to get to know and enjoy. I've made my family (blood related or not) proud, and I have such a clear mind. I feel completely content. I still feel like I am too young to be out in the world though.
I put the shoes on this afternoon and I swear, I felt a cold breeze that gave me a little shiver down my spine.
