Lent: Day Twenty-Six

Is it bad to write an ode to one's Tevas on a blog that is currently focused on Lent?

Probably.

But I'm going to do it anyway, because, frankly, my Tevas are amazing. I was reminded of this fact when I slipped them on today, pushing extra hard on the straps to make them stick. You see, after ten years of being worn eight months out of each year, Velcro begins to give out. I may have to lovingly tie them with string here soon.

Anyway, back to the point: my amazing Tevas.

When I moved to Montana, I purposely left them in Wyoming. (Don't tell them this; I don't want them to think me disloyal.) The idea was this: These things barely have a sole anymore. I may as well walk barefoot. I really, really need to get another pair. Maybe if I leave them and am unable to relish the wonderful feeling of that first toe-wiggling trod in the spring, I will buy a new pair and lay these to rest.

The idea failed.

Just last week, as the sun was beginning to shine and the air to warm, I began to need them. I tried, for about half a day, to tell myself I didn't. But, I caved. I called my mother and begged her to mail them -- pronto. Withdrawal can be an ugly thing.

They arrived yesterday, lovingly tucked into a cushioned envelope. (My Mom is the best!) It made me so happy. It was like reuniting with a very old, very dear friend.

For, you see, these Tevas have walked with me in many a place. England. Scotland. Canada. Singapore. Indonesia. Thailand. Laos. El Salvador. And all over America.

They have been with me when I'm at my strongest, and when I am at my weakest. We have hiked mountains together, and forded rivers, and biked all over town and city. They watched me fall in love. And break up. And I have tripped over them more times than I care to admit while trying to do something as difficult as walk next to a guy I like. Even then, all those times, they did not judge. That would be against their very nature.

And so, dear Tevas, I have this to say:

Thou art faithful and fair. Thou art loyal and loving. And though thy sole doth wear away from a decade of exuberant use, I know thy soul shall remain as long as I believe in you. I am glad to have you back. Now, what adventures should we have today?