Bidding Adieu

A couple years ago, I bought a pair of the most beautiful pumps I've ever seen.  Five inch heel, patent leather, perfect curvature of the toe, soft cream-colored backing...they were (and still are) exquisite. I bought them around the winter holidays, and I remember running around town trying to find them in my size. I had bought the last pair and though they were a little tight, I was so high on the adrenaline of having found them that I felt nothing but elation. Through the weeks that followed, I realized they were actually extremely painful to wear.  So much so that after slipping them on for a dinner party, I had to slip them off just an hour later.  I didn't want to believe that something so beautiful could bring me so much pain, so I kept them in my closet and admired them, constantly making excuses not to wear them.  Finally, a few days ago, I realized I was running out of space for my new acquisitions, so I knew it was time to let them go.  I had been lying to myself for years, but the truth was that these shoes just didn't fit. Truthfully, I had attempted to sell them once before, but shortly after photographing them for the advertisement, I realized I couldn't go through with it and put them back on the shelf. This time, though, I knew I had to be strong, and I knew it was time to say good-bye.

 

Wrapping them was an emotional experience. I had so many plans for us, so many cobblestones to cover...but even as they lay in their shoebox, they seemed to smile a shiny, innocent smile that said hey, we'll remember you too. Will they?

The person whose bid won the shoes lives in the Netherlands, and I imagine she is a very nice girl who will give my shoes something I never could: the right feet.  I hope she washes them after a long night out, and gives them their very own spot on the shoe rack. I hope she wears them on first dates, and to evenings out with the girls, where someone will say "nice shoes!" in Dutch, and she will look down and smile at them the way I've done countless times.  Most of all, I hope she loves them.  Or actually, I hope she hates them and sends them back, but that's beside the point.  I wrote her a little note in Dutch extending my gratitude for her taking them in and my hope that she enjoys them.

Maybe something will get lost in translation and she'll read something along the lines of these shoes must be sent back immediately. Or maybe she doesn't speak Dutch at all, and all of my intentions will forever remain solely in my heart.