LIFE
Old Shoes Take Long Walks
A Farewell to Vans
I have a tear in my old yellow Vans kicks. You know how they say Vans look better worn. I think I took it a little too seriously. My love always tells me, “Dress well,” and I honestly try to follow her bits of advice on style.
But I like my old torn Vans. They remind me of all the walking I did in the past years. They’re tired, they’re grungy. They’re me. I quit smoking ten years ago, and I need at least something rebellious to take with me.
There’s an old Roman sandal in our local museum. It’s piled along with other pieces of clothing archaeologists dug from the depth of history. I wonder if in a few thousand years future scientists put my old Vans behind a bulletproof glass and add a holographic description, saying “A shoe from the XXI century.” A man with bionic implants will shake his head, saying, “Yeah, people back in the XXI century had style.”
You got it right, buddy.
It’s my old Vans that swing left and right on my feet while I’m watching a blank page on my laptop turn into another story. They are waiting patiently for me to finish, pay for a cup of tea, and walk out of a cafe hearing a little bell above the door ringing its high-pitched “Come back again.”
If clothes could tell stories, it’s shoes that would be the best at it. Of all coats, shirts, and jeans, it’s shoes that have actually been places. They stood among Pyramids, matching the footsteps of the ancient Pharaohs. They patiently waited in line to get into another must-go bar. They chilled on a beach watching sunsets and counting sand grains.
Every once in a while, try to let your shoes pick the road. Close the navigator and allow yourself to get lost in a new city. See where the shoes take you. I promise they won’t disappoint. Unpredictable as they are, they always end up not in a place you want but in a place you need.
And while they guide you through streets and turns, you have a clear head to think about yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Always think about the past, present, and future. For we are creatures of time and everything we have is about the time we lived in, live in, and will end up living in.
There’s a little tear in my Vans. Just like there’s a little tear in me. It’s called curiosity and it demands to explore something new, both outside and inside my head. If I patch my Vans, eventually the tear will appear again. Curiosity can’t be patched forever. And the more I walk, the bigger this tear becomes.
Unlike the old worn me, my Vans can’t hold on another year. They know it, and they are fine with it. Shoes have a silent respect for succession. Perhaps, all the people of power in this world should learn a thing or two from my old Vans. Time changes and old shoes happily give way to new ones. Otherwise, they end up ragged, tattered, and unwanted.
But my Vans will never become obsolete. The shoes we wear bear our ideas, and you can’t put an idea into a recycle bin. Don’t you let go of this thought, don’t you ever let go.
My Vans are freedom, and freedom never dies.
The new Vans are planned. However, I’ll still have my old ones for another few months.
I’ll take them to the sea, they like it there.
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