Soul Stories: Write about a pair of shoes


Write about a pair of shoes

My sister and I met at a local restaurant.  She is younger than me and her hopeful enthusiasm for life mounts me like a dominant rabbit.  I think I am a hopeful girl.  People tell me I am a hopeful girl.  But I say if you think I am hopeful, you should meet my sister.  I actually use that phrase a lot: If you think I’m _______, you should meet my sister.  There has always been this strange competition between us, so much so that I could never seem to sort out my identity without somehow using their lives as a gauge.  I have two sisters.  They are beautiful.  We got assigned roles in our family very early on.  My middle sister is the artist and the tough girl.  My youngest sister is the artist and the smart one.  I am the writer.  I always liked to write.  

Over the years these labels were too confining but for awhile I submitted to wearing these labels.  I remember a friend kept inviting me to a Zumba class and I was hesitant to go because of how rhythmic I knew the classes were.  When I finally relented and went to a class, I surprised myself by actually being able to follow the steps and was pretty good at moving rhythmically.  It was the beginning of my exploration of what other ‘labels’ I cold wear as part of my identity.
At the restaurant, we talk about the things going on in our lives.  We chose to meet today because it is her birthday.  I look at her as a big sister should.  Proud of the woman she is and no longer feeling I need to compete with her.  I brought her a gift – a pair of shoes.  Truth be told it was a pair of shoes I knew she liked but it was also a pair of shoes I wish I could wear.  I tried them on once.  They were cream colored with a 2-inch heel, strappy, complimentary to a dancer’s physique.  I tried them just like I tried on dancing.  And while they both were lovely, they weren’t mine.  But at least I felt the invitation o find out.  I offer these shoes to my sister, wrapped with joy, And love. And peace.