It was a bitter cold northeast
night with temperatures dropping and rain in the forecast. On a busy highway
there lay a shoe along the curb, laces awry conjuring an image of struggle.
From whence had it come, this shoe? Or the foot that once bore it, what of it? Was
there some sort of scuffle resulting in the shoe being cast away or merely
horseplay resulting in it being thrown from the open window of a rapidly moving
vehicle?
Night was by now in full
swing and rain had commenced with snow projected to follow the next day. Should
no recapture be worked out the shoe was in for a rugged time. And what of its compadre?
Is it, too, lost or is it still safely ensconced in its domestic existence? How
long could that be maintained if its errant partner remains on the lam? The
healthy shoe at some point will be deemed rubbish without its teammate and be
cast into the ash bin.
The youth who had most
recently worn the shoe returned home from school quickly tossing aside his
backpack and gym gear. He was an athletic fellow boasting of average skills for
the three main North American sports. He was in a hurry to fulfill his post-school
routine of securing an afternoon snack. He disembarked his gear in an
impressive single-motion of haphazard discardment allowing the vacancy of the aforementioned
missing item to go unnoticed.
One gym shoe landed in the
vicinity of the shoe pile just inside the garage door adjacent to the recycle
bins. He saw the one land, did not observe the second, of course, because the
second never made it home. ‘Maybe in my gym bag,’ he thought, but he was in too
much of a food frenzy-induced haste to seek verification. He was not entirely
aware that the second shoe was absent. The pile of shoes was generously engorged
with those of his three brothers. It could be, and likely would be, months
before it is even noticed that it was missing, weeks, easily. Even then the
remaining shoe would experience a period of time in purgatory to see if its compadre
somehow turned up.
The wayward shoe had slipped
from its cozy tight pocket of the book bag while the boy rode his bike home
from school. The bicycle was ridden roughly over the curb in avoidance of a
group of people at the bus stop. This knocked loose said shoe because they had
not been tied together nor properly secured. They had been stuffed into each side
pocket of the backpack, but the constant jostling of the bike ride resulted in
an eventual easily attained freedom.
A deep blue canvas quartertop basketball shoe, a left shoe, with a dark black smudge on its side, a hole
by the toe, several overlapping layers of duct tape wrapped around the front
near the toe, plus the iconic swoosh. Not a fashion statement, the carefully
laid duct tape, but remedial action necessitated by the host’s vigorous and
plentiful skateboarding. This shoe will never be worn again. It was in a
depression along the curb and rain was already pooling. This was shaping up to
be a very bad first night on the loose.
-klem
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