Still here, still writing

One of my favorite activities these days is meeting twice a month with my writing group. Before COVID we met monthly at either of the two leader’s houses. Since we stopped gathering in person and now use Zoom to get together we meet on the first and third Tuesdays of the month. Meeting more often a a great way to keep in touch as well as write more.

Our last meeting’s prompt was:

Shoes – symbol of life, a way of being

I immediately connected because I was a true shoe person from the time I was a little girl.

Here’s my writing group piece:

When I was in fourth or fifth grade, I used to walk to grade school with a girl named Phyllis. We would pretend we were grownups walking on tippy toes as if we were wearing high heeled shoes. We’d also carry a handbag to match. And after school we’d go to one of our houses and spend the rest of the afternoon drawing shoes. Very high heeled shoes in all colors and styles. Except that not a one of them was suitable for walking and running. These meticulously drawn shoes were only meant for dressy occasions.

During those times I also loved going shoe shopping with my mother. We’d go downtown Chicago on the bus from our street corner and end up at her favorite shoe shop, called Joseph’s, where she tried on and usually bought at least six pairs at a time. She also bought shoes with high heels – the higher the better since she was a very short woman. Once I cried so hard when she decided not to buy a pair with laces that chriss-crossed around her ankle and up her calf several times, she had to give in and buy them. They became her go-to shoe for most of her out for dinner events.

So I came to be obsessed with shoes naturally. I have several pairs of designer high heels, which now – especially during the pandemic shut down – I never wear. And I don’t think I’ll ever wear them again after the shutdown is over. I’m too old to wear high heels anymore. I’m more like a walking shoe kind of person these days.

Instead my beautiful shoes sit on my closet shelves in their original boxes, collecting dust  rather than collecting compliments when they are on my feet. What, I ask myself, should I do with them? Where does one sell used designer shoes?

Where does one go to get rid of part of one’s life and heart?

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