I headed off to a big shopping mall on Boxing Day (the 26th) to see if I could find a pair of pants.
In years past you wouldn’t have found me there. Too many people. Too much going on. But I seem to be able to handle the crowds now. It helps to expect crowds. It helps to not to feel like I’m responsible for every bit of information that passes through my energy. I may have finally developed some good boundaries. Yay. Even better, I found a pair of pants. Yay again.
I found myself watching people go by while I waited for Tom to look through a store. I was sitting comfortably and was in no hurry. I didn’t watch the people really. I watched their shoes. It occurred to me that we are very very wealthy, and not just in comparison to those in third world countries. Not one single person who passed by my spot had ratty, holey or worn out shoes. All were spotless, many brand new.
When I was a kid, we were not poor. We lived in a nice house in a middle class subdivision. We ate well. Three square meals a day. Yet we had only two pair of shoes. Good school shoes and sneakers. That was it. We polished the leather in the good shoes when we were going to church or Brownies. We threw the sneakers in the washer when they got dirty and whitened them when they got horribly stained. Then when we grew out of them, we got a new pair with a bit of room in the toes for our feet to grow. In the summer we got one pair of flip flops and by the time the end of August rolled around, we had worn holes in the soles and were keeping the flip flips together with adhesive tape.
When I look at what we have now and take for granted, a part of me wants the simplicity of two pair of shoes. Another part of me likes the fact that I have more and can choose from more.
Is there a moral to this? Not really. Just saying.
First published January 2103 in my free monthly email newsletter, Starry Night. Sign up here.
