I have a pair of blue Chuck Taylor shoes. I love those shoes, I’ve had them forever and have a lot of great memories of things that happened while wearing them. Like long walks in the misty, foggy, gray morning….mornings just like this one, walks just like the one I’ve just returned home from. A magical kind of walk where I am able to go right up to squirrels who are frolicking and playing and harvesting nuts they must have lost in last night’s rains. A walk where in the distance I hear the neighing of a horse and gobbles of a turkey and roosters galore heralding the new day. The giant Siberian Husky looked upon me with his beautiful blue eyes and there was so much peace there, it was amazing. Along the power lines were 6 little black birds, they reminded me of music notes the way they were spread out up there. One was alone on the top wire, spaced out a little distance from him next was one on the bottom wire, spaced equally from it was four more spaced perfectly on the second wire. I’d like to paint it…all gray and pale blue and misty with black power lines and little black birds, really striking. Anyway, there I was in the midst of all this wonderment in my favorite shoes that I wear in spite of the tiny holes cracking at the toe and the loose threads around the top. I don’t care, I wear them with skirts, jeans, yoga pants, it matters not. The day I have to finally retire them will be a sad one to be sure, but you know what, I probably won’t ever throw them out. They’ll get tucked away in the back of the closet with loads of walks and memories to keep them company.