An old bag of shoes

In the process of de-junking our attic a few weeks ago, I was handing down boxes and bags of who-knows-what to Seven. There was tons of stuff we needed to go through. How is it that we have a huge attic and no storage space? Oh, because our attic is filled with all kinds of useless crap antique things.

We inherited this house, which means we inherited the long-since forgotten things being stored in the attic. Additionally, we had to find a place for our things, the ones we shipped here but didn't have space for. We piled that stuff on top of what was already up there, so the attic became a great big pile of junk stuff. For the last few years, I have felt the weight of the cluttered attic suffocating me. This is the year we were going to get it organized!

Yeah, right.

We have, at least, started, despite my husband's protests.

On the appointed day, I handed down box after box. I handed down many a plastic bag. Who knew what treasures these boxes and bags beheld?

We found some things that were to be kept, like old linens handmade by Seven's grandmother and some old photographs. We also found all manner of junk, including some broken old trophies with no names, dates, or apparently memories attached and a tacky hula doll and wooden chickens and faded bed sheets and parts of furniture and stuff we shipped half-way around the world for no fathomable reason. . .this list could go on forever.

In the midst of it all, I tore open an old, gray AAFES bag, ready to throw its contents away. Instead of immediately tossing the contents in the ever-growing "Toss" pile, I sat there for many minutes as the memories came flooding back.

In the bag were some of Nicky's old shoes.


There were the first pair I'd bought him, a pair of brown sandals. I never bought baby shoes for him. I figured, if he can't walk, he doesn't need shoes. He didn't get his first shoes until he was one. He still wasn't walking by his first birthday, but I held out hope. Since we were celebrating his birthday in Hawaii, I bought sandals. He didn't use them much and they still look brand-new.

The little blue tennis shoes, though? The Sketchers? Those were his first 'go' shoes. Those are the shoes that he wore once he really knew how to walk. Those shoes went racing down the hall of our apartment building in Japan. They trekked all over Tokyo with us. He was wearing those while we were moving to Norway. These are the shoes Nicky used as he explored the world on two feet for the first time. These shoes don't look brand-new. They are dirty and beat-up. And a reminder of when my baby boy was one.

As I handled the blue shoes, I suddenly regretted throwing away Laney's silver shoes. They weren't her first shoes. (Her first real shoes were bright pink winter boots that we paid a small fortune for even she only needed them for a few months. We still have those.) The silver shoes, though, those were her favorite. She wore them everywhere last summer, even when playing. They weren't the best quality and were quickly run ragged, but she loved those shoes, and when she outgrew them, we bought her another pair, one size bigger. I wished I had the first pair back -- a tangible reminder of the time when my baby girl was one.

I packed up the old shoes, including the newest pair of silver shoes (too cold to use them now), and put them in the gray bag. They were going back into the attic. To add to the clutter. To collect more dust. In all likelihood, to be thrown away by the next generation of attic cleaners for whom those shoes will simply be trash.

For me, though, those beat-up old shoes are reminders of the chubby feet and little toes that used to fit into them, of the time when my kids were my babies. The next time I see those shoes (Have I mentioned there is a lot of junk in that attic I have to go through?), my kids will have undoubtedly outgrown several more pairs of shoes. They'll be off exploring the world in their larger shoes, on their own or with their friends.

I'll still have the little ones, though, the ones from the time we explored the world together, their hands in mine.