Happy feet

Have you ever walked into a shoe store and found EXACTLY what you were looking for? Like exactly what you pictured in your head, and exactly how you wanted them to feel on your feet, and exactly the price you were willing to pay?  That happened to me today.

I have been looking for white sandals for months.  I have not made an intensive search or anything, but I usually walk through the shoe section of a store I happen to be visiting. Granted, Costco, Target, and Walmart aren't exactly shoe stores, and I don't usually find footwear at Dollar Tree or in a medical building, but white sandals have been on my radar since summer shoes hit the stores.

A pair of white sandals has been in my closet for a long time.  They are actually pretty cute, with flowers and sparkles and a cork insole, plus they are comfortable.  Why replace them?  Well, I'll tell you.  Every time I put them on--literally, every time--I think about being pregnant.  I wore these sandals during the long, hot, vomity summer before Kate was born.  They were one of two pairs that I could shove my fat feet into at the very end.  I got rid of the other pair long ago, but I held onto these because they are so cute.

Guess what?  They are not cute anymore.  They are not sentimental in a happy sort of way.  I suppose this is the PTSD talking, since I'm a little fixated on sandals being the trigger for mental unrest.  But today, when I walked into DSW and saw my new shoes twinkling on the shelf, I knew I was ready to say good-bye.

So good-bye, silly sandals.  We've walked a lot of miles together.  May we both rest in peace.