Five years with these bad boys. These old converse sneakers, original hightops in black canvas. Kept them clean the first couple of weeks…that didn’t last long. But the dirtier they got, the more I loved them. The history stuck in the sole of these shoes mesmerizes me. The once-white laces, the overall rugged landscape of the shoe…
These converses have gone camping, have been covered in mud and water. I longed for a pair for so long and finally obtained a pair in my senior year of high school. I wore them everywhere. School dances, walking to the grocery store, to my high school graduation party. They are submerged in memories. If I get rid of them, it almost seems as though those memories might be forgotten. Some people don’t even have shoes, it’s their feet that contain the memories. They feel everything they do with more depth than I ever have, aside from running on the beach as a child in only my own skin. I wish I could take everything I have done in these shoes and contain it in a box close to my heart. I swear these shoes made me who I am today.
They reflected my inner tomboy. I could still kick a soccer ball in these shoes, run around the bases in baseball with only minor penalities in the speed and no-slip department, and while I wasn’t barefoot, they clung tight enough to let me feel many obstacles beneath.
They provided freedom on the dance floor. I’ve always loved to dance. Now that I’m more of a woman than a girl, heels are my go-to when I go out dancing. But thinking about how pain-free and unrestricted converses are in comparison makes me wish I didn’t like wearing skirts and dresses so much now. They’d look a little off with a pencil skirt and silk top.
They were some of my best years. I accomplished graduating from high school, top in my class. These shoes got me there. They kept me grounded. They kept me in my room instead of out partying…I would try on so many outfits alone in my room at night, avec shoes. And one day, I went out and bought low-top red converses….
Never have I been attracted to the low-tops as much as my high-tops. Never the same feelings towards them. They were meant to look better with shorts, but they never felt quite right. 3rd year in university, 3 years away from home, and the only pair of converses I have with me are my beaten up old faithfuls.
So where am I going with all of this? Many people reflect on how shoes symbolize your journey, your state of being, you. And I respect that. But I wanted to reflect further on how much some materialistic possession can mean to you based solely on the memories contained. I put those converses on here and there, wear them to the library, maybe the grocery store. And it brings me back home, back to immature high school days, back to my family, back to my grade 12 camping trip with people I grew up with. If I lost these converses, I realize those memories really are within me, and I won’t lose them. But it’s the states of transition I like, being able to step back and look how far I’ve come now from where I came.
So here’s to those grungy shoes in the back of our closets we tend to neglect. They’re always bringing us back to our roots, and teaching us to move forward with no regrets.