The Other Shoe

Where do they come from, these shoes abandoned along the side of the road, in a muddy field, in the middle of a busy intersection, floating in the rushes along the bank of the creek? They’re everywhere. Where’s the other one? Does it go home to live a short life as half a couple thrown in the back of a dark closet until it meets its fate in the garbage bin? What does one do with one shoe? Hop?

I get disconcerted about things that others seem to take in stride. Like mucus. This last allergy season was horrific. Every year I pledge to invest a huge amount in Kleenex stock. I remember that unfulfilled pledge each summer as I’m purchasing my umpteenth-zillionth box of tissue to accommodate an unending supply of mucus. I mean really, where does it all come from? No one should be that prolific.

And mosquitoes! Don’t even get me started. What a total waste of creative energy. I see absolutely no purpose for mosquitoes. I could be wrong now, but I don’t think so.

There are a plethora of smaller nuisances that barely deserve mentioning—colors that clash badly, poor grammar (I am my mother’s daughter after all), scented hairspray, bad breath, shoes with no arch support… You perhaps have your own list.

Am I overlooking the really, really big stuff, like war, poverty, famine, disease, injustice, cruelty? Not at all. Those are abundantly addressed in our society. This is a mere respite, a light-hearted blog, a breath of fresh air to rejuvenate us so we can go back out there and fight the good fight, love bigger and better, shine brighter and stronger. Live on!