These aren't my shoes.
My feet are just living here
for a while.
I had shoes that I loved -
really loved -
a few years ago.
I'd worn them for so long
the shoes
and my feet
changed shape, fitting together
like perfect partners.
And walking was
dancing,
then.
But it couldn't last.
My feet were still growing,
and one day,
without any warning,
my favorite shoes
didn't fit
anymore.
But I loved them.
I loved them.
So I crammed my feet into them
violently, desperately.
But now walking hurt,
and there was
no more dancing.
And it broke my heart
that I hated
my favorite shoes.
So I let them go.
Now I am barefoot
standing in these empty shells
that are my halfway house.
Because I need shoes,
but these aren't them.
My feet are just
living here.
1 comment:
I keep thinking about this idea of navigating transitions. This morning I was reading about a dream I recorded in a journal a few years ago. In it my sister (who was my best friend through my young mothering years, and our families used to do things together all the time, our children growing up together) died and I was beside myself with grief. After a bit she started talking and then got back up and walked around, but like a zombie, and it became increasingly wrong and uncomfortable, until we all not only realized it was time for her to die but that she needed to die permanently, as that was the order of things. I love my sister dearly and don't want her to die, but the dream was telling me that a time of my life had ended and couldn't really be returned to. It was time for me to let it go. I loved being a young mother very much. It was a very hard stage of my life to let go. I so sympathize with the difficulties you're facing. As I've spent the past decade helping my kids navigate important transitions I've returned often to my own. No two experiences are the same. It's hard in some way for everyone. My heart goes out to you. Feel free to delete this comment if you wish; I just wanted you to know I was thinking fondly of you.
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