I wasn’t very strict about wearing proper walking shoes in my 20s. Even in my early 30s, I mostly enjoyed walking in sandals. Whatever was right next to the door found its purpose covering my feet, and off I would go for a walk.
Then I switched to wearing proper walking shoes. Once I started doing that, flip-flops and sandals became an inconvenience.
The Arizona summer, with its incredible talent for spicing up the warmth—the sun already heating the pavement, the air dry against my face—didn’t stop me from putting on socks and shoes before stepping out. I think I made this switch because of constant back pain and my tendency to fall. My ankles were always prone to sprains, and more often than not, I would end up falling. I hoped for better stability with walking shoes, I guess. Although, I did fall again—in the shoes too. Let’s call it my unique talent.
Still, I love the comfort they give me. My current pair, which I’ve been using for almost two years now, is incredibly comfortable—though they’re now beginning to show their wear and tear. The soles have softened in places, the fabric slightly faded, as if they’ve quietly absorbed every mile I’ve put them through. I picked them up one day while casually shopping at Kohl’s. Trying them on turned out to be one of the best things I’ve done for myself. The cushiony support for my arches was something I didn’t even realize I had been missing.
Since then, I’ve spoken so highly of this pair of Ryka shoes. It’s time to get another pair, but I don’t want to part with my walking companion. These shoes have carried me—and quite a bit of my weight—through all those walks I’ve taken multiple times a day over the past two years. Through quiet mornings and restless afternoons, they have been there, steady and patient.
Honestly, I never thought I’d grow attached to something as ordinary as a pair of shoes. But somewhere along the way, they became more than that—they became something that carried more than just my steps.
This piece is written in response to Write Bravely – April prompt.
The Five-Minute Ordinary – Write about a single, everyday object.
Beyond Scribbles 