Wednesday, October 18, 2006

The Journey of a Gym Shoe

Looking at my daughter's tattered gym shoes, laying in the front hall entranceway, minding their own business; I wonder over the condition of their wear.

Laces tattered at the ends, gray and dark spots running throughout and quite pathetic to behold. A clear rip forming at the toe of a once immaculate white surface, now muddied and soiled. Poor young shoes. How can this be the fate of items purchased such a short time ago?

Two months. Two months to my adult gaze passes in an instant. Not enough time to balance the checkbook, keep every appointment; school committees, work obligations, countless dinners to prepare. Two months of vacuuming the carpet, driving the carpool, and reading the same bedtime story that runs through my dreams unbidden from repitition. Two months to put off things for lack of time, and wish for more than the measely twenty four hours we're alotted a day.

TWO MONTHS!!! Two months to a child is eternity to wait for; a Christmas morning that takes forever to arrive. Enough time to scale a small builing, or at least the neighbor's fence. Two months of fun playdates, lunch friends and recess, and at least three or more chances to kick the boy down the block in the shins. Two months full of running, and lessons and school books, of new fall colors that last just forever when waiting so patiently to say, 'trick or treat'! Two months takes forever to pass to an eight year old. Waiting to be the one in charge and eat all the cake or not do my homework - well, lucky parents, they make all the rules, and I have to listen with a pout and a sigh.

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