Fit For Adventure

That's what it says on the side of my shoebox. Inside of the shoebox is a pair of red Chacos. Single straps without the toe strap, to be exact. We all have these things that are the last thing we need to be complete. For Jillian, it's her green Camelback water bottle, but for me it's these shoes. They are not the regular black flip flops or brown Keds. No, these are sturdy. These are for Austrian mountains and rocky Seattle beaches. These are for long walks and bike rides. I like that their slogan is "Fit for Adventure" because it's so fitting. Once these shoes are on your feet, the doors of the world feel as though they open for you.

I bought them for Austria after much thought and consideration. These are shoes to last a lifetime and you can't just buy them on a whim. When I told Mom I wanted them, she was proud that I was in a position to need such shoes. It's taken me significantly longer to enjoy the idea of being outdoors than it did for my brother and sister. For them, love of the mountains seems much more natural than it does to me. Yet here I am, standing in her office asking for her 20% off coupon to buy these shoes that will make me fit for adventure. I like adventures, I always have, but I have never craved an adventure like I am right now. I sit in my macroeconomics class and draw pathetic sketches of places I wish I were in. My mind wanders in and out of cross-cultural communication concepts and gets stuck dreaming about being in a different culture. In world history, I hear Austria-Hungarian Empire and I am stuck thinking about Austria. I don't think my mind will stop wandering until I am there.

How funny it is that a pair of shoes can inspire so much thought within me. But as I think about it, this isn't the first time it's happened. There were the tap shoes that changed my life. The tan character shoes that didn't fit quite right. The black T-strap character shoes that were perfect. The bright white converse that I wore to dorm prom. The silver heals that belonged to Grandma Nadine. The slippers that came from Budapest. The rollerskates that were a dream come true. My entire shoe collection is a collection of dreams and memories connected to a different pair of shoes. Dreams of being far away and dreams of being cozy in my home. Memories of dancing on a stage in a gold dress or strutting with my nose high in the air as Miss Gwendolyn Fairfax would do. They all have meaning...how consumeristic of me to adore my shoes as much as I do. At least a lot of thought has gone into these hundreds of dollars spent on shoes and there is a guarantee that they will last.

These chacos will go far, partnered with a pair of hiking boots. The tap shoes and ballet slippers were for a different season of life, but these shoes are for the next season of life. I hope that this will be my last pair of shoes for a while...I'm ready to be content in this season for a little while. I like where I'm headed and I'd like to stay on this road, wearing my chacos each step of the way.