If you could walk a mile in my shoes, oh the stories you would see, the places you would go. It’s weird to think of shoes as a part of a memory. I tend to find myself attached to every article of clothing as a living breathing thing. My chucks are no exception. They’re more than just a pair of shoes, they are an extended part of my being. Maybe it’s not the miles in the shoes, but the memories of where they carried me.
I wish I could tell you how I was first magically drawn to these shoes. How their magnetism attracted me to them but telling my secrets takes away the magic. Takes away the purity of what you feel once you lace up your first pair of converse. To me, my chucks were my shield. They were my super hero alter ego. Every time I wore them life happened, every experience my chucks were there taking in the moment. They were my snapshot into some of the greatest and even some of the saddest moments of my life. They have taken me to great lengths of the world. They have travelled with me from beyond the states and across the borders. They have seen the lightest happiest moments of my life to the deepest darkest moments of my soul. Its funny how a pair of shoes can carry a soul and still keep you planted on the ground. Every time I laced up my shoes, I felt every bit of my history reappear before my eyes.
The stories they can tell you from every mile I walked in them. From every venue, to every dark corner of the city, to the arms of loved ones and fallen foes. I loved and I lost, in these shoes. I lived and I breathed, within every mile I walked in these shoes. I’ve picked myself up and reinvent myself and still I carry these shoes with me. They’re a nostalgic part of being young and stupid, and they’re also my growing up and moving forward. I could have an endless supply of chucks, in various styles and colors, and still I stick to my battered down black low tops from my teenage angst years. Still I keep them as a part of who I was and no matter how broken they look, they always make me feel whole.
Looking at them battered, crusted and lived in, I don’t dare let them go. Because letting them go, lets go of the stories that are held together in the holes of the canvas. Letting them go, lets go of the tears the soles of the shoes caught upon the pavement. There’s something beautiful about watching something unravel before your eyes and thats how I feel about my chucks. I will wear them until the laces fray and break apart. Until the canvas becomes unglued, until the soles can’t hold me anymore. Until my feet can’t feel life within those shoes, I won’t dare let them. Because only when those shoes are finished is when a new story begins. Only then will I find a new story in a new pair of chuck taylors. Until then, I will live in the lifetime of memories until these shoes complete disintegrate.
Until my shoes can’t carry me is when I finally let my chucks go.