The shoes...
- Carol Burns
- Jun 22
- 1 min read
Last week I shared the sentence I'd apparently been carrying around for years without properly noticing.
This week I'd like to tell you about the shoes.
When I was little, one of my favourite memories was getting my first pair of heels.
They weren't really heels.
They were kitten heels.
Black patent shoes that caught the light and looked like they'd been dipped in an oil slick.
I adored them.
Then life happened.
I grew up.
I moved countries.
I spent years living in flip-flops.
Then one day an online friend posted a photograph of herself wearing a fabulous pair of shoes.
I immediately wanted to know what they were and where I could get my grubby little mitts on a pair.
When Chris asked what I wanted for Christmas, I knew exactly what to ask for.
A pair of Fluevogs.
On Christmas Day, Chris and I walked to the pub and he suddenly started laughing.
Apparently I'd been taking what he now calls my "big steps" so I could admire my shoes while I walked.
He said I looked exactly like a five-year-old.
Which was slightly rude.
And also entirely accurate.
It turns out the shoes weren't the point.
They were just the clue.
Speak Soon,
Carol
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