On love and loss.

I moved the contents of one of my closets to my new place this past Saturday. Since nobody likes moving other people's clothes, I thought taking care of the closets would be a kindness to the people who are slated to come and help next weekend.

But also, I still have what I believe to be a greater number of black slacks than Tawana considers necessary. I'm not giving her the opportunity to take me to task for owning more pair than she wants to carry.

I moved a lot of shoes, too. I am heart-broken to have to say that these were not among them. My mother and I, after long deliberation, determined that they were broken down and beyond saving. They weren't even in good enough shape to make the donation bag.

I am heartbroken.

You can see that these soles saw many, many miles. This is because they were very probably the most versatile pair of brown shoes that I have ever owned. And even though my feet are quite large, these shoes make them appear delicate and feminine. These shoes are business-like, yet flirty, and they are flat enough to make any podiatrist happy. Each and every time I wear them, someone complements them from the other side of the stall. But I think the main thing I love about these shoes is the adorable nubbin-type button on the side. That part, I can't explain.

They are just simply irreplaceable. And they are gone.

I find it impossible not to mourn a pair of shoes that feel so good that I managed to wear them right out from under me. Most of the time, the shoes I'm in are so uncomfortable that my feet are fairly screaming to be freed. If you were to look under the conference table or beneath my desk, you might catch me--completely naked from the knees down. On particularly hot, summer days, I often slip one foot out and onto the soothingly cool tile floor while I wait for the elevator to arrive.

I never had to resort to such hillbilly shenanigans while wearing these shoes. I miss them already.