The Shoes

Today, I’ve packed up Joshie’s shoes – 7 pairs of them that have been upstairs at my house the past 7 years. After much turmoil and peacemaking, I’m putting them into the hands, or onto the feet, of other people.

He was a shoe lover, not unlike me. These were under no circumstances all of his shoes – just the ones at my house. If I may speak woo-woo language to you, I have heard their cries to release them into the world. And so today, they are released.

The thing that has to happen when you lose one so precious is an ongoing reconciliation with what’s left here. Everything – really, everything – takes on a level of importance that didn’t exist before. For that reason, any movement or removal of things can become rather ceremonious.

I’ve donated many, many things multiple times over the decades. Never before has it brought me to tears. Not for the loss of things, mind you, but for the absence of the one to whom they belonged. And for all the ways my own growth and movement through time on this earth requires such adjustments within and around me.

As for the shoes, may the one who needs them be drawn to them and may they imprint the earth once again, exchanging the energy of love and mercy, hope and joy with each step.