Sole Survivors

It was a rainy Saturday morning when I finishedFive years ago when I moved from Los Angeles to
unpacking from a recent business trip. After jigglingKaua'i, Hawaii, I brought all my shoes, knowing full well
open the sliding door to my closet, I desperatelythat many didn't fit anymore (my feet seem to get
tried to find space for a new pair of shoes I hadwider with age). At the time, I didn't know why I
purchased.was taking them, but sitting on the edge of my bed,
No such luck. Every time I moved one dusty old box,holding my black satin heels, I knew: I didn't want to
another fell down.let go of the memories of parties, weddings,
"This is it!" I huffed out loud. "This is the day I givevacations, anniversaries.
away all of my old shoes."I'd worn these shoes during some of the best years
The shoes I'm talking about were not justof my life. They were with me when, against the
tattered--many of them no longer fit. Why was Iodds, I went back to school, got a Ph.D., wrote
saving them? I got my step stool and up into thebooks, and built a private practice as a marriage,
nether regions of closet land I went.family and child counselor. It wasn't just the
The first box contained a pair of black satin highaccomplishments that were important. It was all the
heels. They were my favorites eight years ago whenwonderful people who enriched each experience. By
they were new. I remember wearing them the nightholding on to the shoes, I'd been trying to hold on to
I attended a grand performance of Swan Lake bythe memories. Even though moving to Kaua'i was a
the Joffrey Ballet. My friends and I were able to gogoal my husband and I worked hard to achieve, it
backstage and meet the dancers.seemed I was still spiritually linked to my 27 years in
The next box held the silver-mesh heels with beadedLos Angeles.
flowers delicately draped across the front that I firstI took time to carefully dust off each pair of shoes
wore to our youngest son's bar mitzvah 12 yearsand put them in a white plastic giveaway bag beside
ago. As I closed my eyes, I could still hear hisme. After placing the last pair inside, I twisted a wire
13-year-old changing voice chanting.tie around the top and reflected upon the importance
Less glamorous were my workout shoes, all tatteredof creating space in my life.
and torn, but reminding me of exuberant aerobicsI realized that letting go of what no longer fits allows
classes at the gym. Each pair of shoes was like anfor experiences -- and shoes -- that fit the person
old photo album carrying vivid pictures of treasuredI've become. Now my closet has room for new
moments.shoes to travel with me on the path ahead.