In His Shoes
You mean to tell me you packed six pairs of shoes and NONE of them are closed toe or flat?! We stood in a small storage closet in the Clift Hotel in San Francisco and I wore a face of sheer exhaustion. It was raining. My feet hurt. And we had a little time to kill before our return flight. I just finished my ReFrame presentation, and we planned to walk around one of our favorite cities in the world. But then the whole shoe thing got in the way. The bell man was waiting for us to grab a few things from our bags before locking the storage closet, but I couldn't bear the idea of walking in four-inch heels in the rain. Not even the four blocks it would take for us to get to the nearest department store.
JD quickly unzipped his bag and grabbed a pair of his shoes, gingerly passing them my way. I threw on a pair of jeans, grabbed my coat, and slipped on the oversized shoes. I didn't even care I looked like one of those fashion transgressors whose eyes are blacked out on the back of InStyle Magazine. And, oh, my coat? It had shoulder pads. SHOULDER PADS!! Internet, I was a mess, but my feet were happy. We darted out into the rain and explored the chilly streets together, shopping along the way. I was supposed to buy a pair of shoes, but--against all odds--I actually liked wearing JD's shoes. I was, literally, walking in his footprints. And it made me feel close to him.
We decided to grab a quick bite to eat at Osha Thai, and over steamy pad khee mao and yellow curry, we talked about life. And our future. Together. Once the bill arrived, I reach out and touched his hand...and thanked him for his shoes. Because, really, all I ever want to do in life is walk in his footprints.