It's kind of like welcoming a new year. You're excited to see where these next 365 days will take you. You trust they will be good to you, show you some adventures, and give you opportunities to walk along with some fellow travelers in life. But, at the same time, that old year has so many memories.
And when that old year holds a decade of memories, it's a little hard to let go.
So you look at old photographs and let yourself get a tad too sentimental.
You take a walk in the old Tevas and glory in the fact that there are freshly fallen leaves to crunch.
You dance in the kitchen and feel like the old Tevas may actually be dancing the steps all by themselves. They have, after all, danced those steps in many a kitchen over their ten fine years on your feet.
Then the time comes. You take a few long, shaky breaths. You shake your head at your own ridiculousness. And you lovelingly press those old, worn out straps closed for the coming period of rest.
Time speeds up. You put the ragged Tevas in a box as quickly as you can and stash the box in a dark, difficult-to-reach corner of your closet. Then you strap on the new Tevas and hit the street.
You walk for a while, contemplative. The new sandals rub a bit here and there...but, you tell yourself, the old ones did, too, when they were new so long ago.
You wiggle your toes. You revel in the small detail that the new Tevas match your old tan line perfectly.
That is a good sign.
And then, inexplicably, you begin to run. You run, and run, and run. You crunch leaves. You leap off curbs. You launch onto logs and kick your heels as you bound off.
Grass. Sidewalks. Dirt. Pavement.
Up hill. Down.
Into laughter. Laughter, laughter, laughter. Laughter at how ridiculous you really are.
But that's okay. You look at your new Tevas and nod a single, approving nod.
It's going to be a good year...or twelve.