Requiem on a Flip Flop

Today I lost an old friend.

My favorite flip flop.

Actually, only one died, but without the other....the surviving one is quite useless.

I have had this particular pair for at least 7 years.

7 summers.

7 years of vacations.

7 years of pedicures, two broken toes, and always my refuge when those other nasty shoes gave me a blister. My trusty flip flops were always there.

7 years of the handy pair of shoes by the door that you can quickly slip into.

7 years of epic life, romance, comedy, drama and even a bit of tragedy.

These flip flops walked across the sand, the concrete, airports, grocery stores, even St. Marks Square.

My mother hated these flip flops.

Each trip home to California, I would open my suitcase, and there they would be in all their ragged glory. She would threaten to throw them out everytime....even buy me a new pair.

But I could not be swayed.

Each year, I would walk into a store, looking at the new flip flops....but none had the same appeal. None ever felt so comfy. None ever managed to turn my head.

Today, getting out of my car, the right flop ripped apart. Ironically in front of the Target store. (where I had purchased them years before)

I frantically tried to repair it. But it didn't work.

I was so distraught, I got back in the car and limped home. (it is not easy to walk in a broken flip flop)

My mother was thrilled to hear the news that her nemesis was finally dead and gone.

Farewell old friends.

I will miss you.