Now I have work sneakers and good sneakers.
Let me clear up this point right away, neither are used for running. Ha, running. No.
Before one pair of sneakers did it all for me, got me places comfortably, took me on nice walks, let me chase my nieces and nephews around. Then I bought a house with a yard.
The first assault happened while picking up and burning fallen branches at my mother's house. At some point an ember landed on my sneaker and burned a hole through the top of the left sneaker. This new sneaker hole lets me judge just how hard I worked according to how muddy my sock gets and how many pebbles and pieces of mulch find their way in the sneaker. The weekly grass cutting has turned the soles bright green. The digging and mulching have made them permanently filthy. And since it has rained every day except for two hours this month, they are always wet. They smell nice too.
So now I have a second pair of sneakers and I feel a little like Mr Rogers when I come home and change out of my crisp white sneakers into my work sneakers. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, won't you be my neighbor? And help me weed?
Confession: When I was little I loved Mr. Rogers. When I got home from school I would come into my bedroom, sing the song, and change my sweater and shoes. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...
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