Walking Shoes

So last night I got home at a reasonable time--around 10pm, I think.
My mother would worry that at that time, coming home alone wouldn't be the safest option.
I fear little other than God.
It was dark, as the sky is prone to sleep oftentimes before we even come close to the places we call "bed," but many street lights were on and I had several other New Yorkers all around, whose sleep/living patterns closely match mine.

"Sporadic" hardly comes close to describing what we do every day.

So I'm coming home and I get off the 6 train to walk the happy, familiar block from Lexington to Park. It's cold outside, as can be expected for the wintertime--at least in New York, anyway.

{Sidenote: i was talking to a close friend last night who mentioned one of the reasons he's usually so quiet or seemingly withdrawn: he simply doesn't prefer to waste words. Conversations in the dead of summer that say, "man, is it hot out there!" just don't do it for him. That our (and by "our" I mean people in general/adults in general) conversations tend towards the obvious or mundane topics like weather once we finally approach the age where we can fully engage in and benefit from meaningful conversation is, I think and I'm sure he would agree, sad...but a topic for yet another posting. [end sidenote]}
...by the way, don't you just LOVE the variety we have in brackets!?

Anyway, I'm heading home. It's nighttime, and it's cold.
And there's a girl who gets off the train on a different car than me.
She exits and walks outside.
She's young, and she's cute.
A bit taller than me, and I think Puerto Rican.
She captured my eye for all these reasons but more because she had on a white shirt.
Why is her white shirt important?
Because she didn't know what color my shirt was because it's COLD outside.
I had on a coat and a scarf...and maybe even my hat.
She had on a white shirt and one of those sleeveless--we'll say "down" vests.
I can't really say whether they're warm or not. My daddy used to wear one all the time, but in his defense he's a grown grown man (this girl was maybe 18, maybe 20) and he always wore sweaters. I remember that.
I just don't think her outfit was warm enough, not to mention, her white shirt wasn't even rolled down to cover her whole arm. Her wrists were exposed!

The rest of her outfit consisted of blue jeans (standard) and gym shoes. (And don't anybody try to tell me they're sneakers or anything else--I know what I'm talking about...Chi-town stand up!)

She jogged up the stairs, out of the station, crossed the street in the same direction I was headed, and then away from where I was walking. And she didn't look cold.
She actually looked particularly comfortable and carefree.

Which is what made me think: I bet her gym shoes are making her happy right now.
Of course, this thought came as I made my way home on tender feet from having worn heels (low, but still inclined) all day long.

I thought about her shoes (by then I guess I'd gotten over her being misdressed for the weather) all the way home, and into my apartment where I gave a sidelong glance to my own boot/shoe collection, complete with several wonderful pieces, but so uncomfortable looking (and often, not so great feeling either.)
Before I even walked into my room I had decided, inspired by the young girl/woman, to get rid of the shoes that didn't make my feet happy. Life is too short to walk through it with feet that don't smile.
But really, who was I fooling?
I've spent time, excitement, MONEY, joy, MORE money, and energy, on picking out my wonderful collection of shoes and boots.
I like what I have...for the most part.

And I'll say I think any kind of choice to better one's life comes with a small pain--kind of like post-partum syndrome...kind of, though I realize it's not really like that at all.
But you get my point.

Anyway, I did decide (by this morning) that I would try my darndest to sell a few pairs of shoes/boots that are still in great working order but that just don't make my feet happy.
Because walking should be a happy endeavor, no matter the shoe, no matter the distance.

I'm out to live life happy...and even though it took me at least two pages to get to my point, I'm starting with my walking shoes.