Old and New

So I have this old pair of slippers that I’ve been rocking for almost two years.  See how worn they look?  

I have no idea where that stain came from, but it's pretty gnarly.  The soles of my feet have left indents in these slippers!  They’ve been with me through the final steps of my time in Cbus and helped me walk the new path in the Nati.  Bedraggled, haggard, tired, these shoes of mine.  I know it’s time for them to go, but I just can’t seem to break away from them.

They’re comfy, worn in in just the right places.  And my toes know just where to go when I slip them on.  We’ve logged hours and miles, me and these shoes.  I’ve walked up and down the steps at Ghost’s house with Beef in my arms in this footwear, travelled the expanse of my suburban existence wearing these cozy shoes, padded around my lopsided flat in them.  Hell, I’ve even worn them out to a late night market run with Voyin in summer.

Obviously, it’s time for them to go.

I bought these two weeks ago. 

Notice that they’re the same shoe?  Sure, on the surface – the same style, the same cut and fabric.  Even the same color.  But what’s different about these new slippers is that there is no time attached to them.  They’re brand new.  Ready for new footfalls, for new time to be logged, for my toes to find new cozy homes in the faux fur.

After I brought them home, I sat them next to my old slippers, and decided it was time for the worn out ones to be retired.  Even still, I left them out, hoping they would serve as a reminder of where I’ve been and where I’m heading.  A funny thing has happened though – my feet subconsciously sought the slippers I know so well.    

The problem I see with this is that while I know inherently it’s time for a change, my feet want to find what’s familiar.  So the old slippers go on, even though they aren’t cozy or inviting any longer, while the new ones sit forlornly in the corner.  It’s easy to return to something to which I’ve become accustomed instead of seeking something that is new.  Change is scary and hard and sometimes, takes a while to become comfortable.  But I don’t want to be wearing the same slippers any longer.  I’m ready to walk a new path, to keep my feet toasty and warm in the new.   So I’ve decided – I’m officially putting the old ones away.  We’ve spent enough time together.  It’s time to let the new path unfold.