REFLECTION - REFLECTION (SHOE STORY) Some days walking out...

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REFLECTION (SHOE STORY) Some days walking out the door is such a task. With multiple glances in the mirror I cannot make up my mind about my outfit. One pair of shoes coordinates perfectly with my outfit, but with the trek across campus to class will surely forge new blisters on my already calloused feet. Another pair is cute sitting up on the shelf, but pose uncertainty being an uncommonly seen trend; this doesn’t match my confidence level for the day. A third pair is worthy of consideration but is not ideal to the morning’s harsh weather. I forfeit, changing into a simple pair of jeans and a tee shirt to match the simple sneakers I slip into. This is a common occurrence. My roommate’s boyfriend chuckles: “You are so ridiculous.” I’m not being ridiculous, the right choice of shoes is pivotal. In the very first week of class, a bag was placed on a desk in the center of the room. The assignment lacked formal instruction: “Write about this bag.” In the midst of squinting hard at the bag and trying my best to formulate a story behind it, my vision was averted to something beyond the artifact. Something more intriguing had caught my eye. As if framing a masterpiece hung in an art gallery, the wooden legs and desk top of the table confirmed the appeal of my vision. Across the room, there sat a pair of dainty legs crossed in modest fashion; a pair of worn, brown leather Mary-Jane shoes securely strapped to the feet. On cold days, they were paired with coordinating socks. When moving, they made not a sound. Nudging my classmate beside me I posed the question: “Where do you think she got those?” He replied “Salvation Army?” Shaking my head I interjected “They might have been really expensive, they look vintage.” Imagine a child sitting on the ground, carefully drawing out boxes with a stick of chalk. Lines of boxes, some paired one next to another. The young girl stands up, places the chalk gently down on the asphalt, and maneuvers through the boxes hopping on one foot, one foot, two feet, one foot, two feet. Her strappy shoes tapping on the concrete, arms out to her sides to maintain balance, and her eyes glued to the movement of her shoes, making sure to not step on the lines. These were the shoes of youthful memories. From day to day the story transformed.
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This note was uploaded on 10/17/2011 for the course ENGLWRIT 112 taught by Professor Mccord during the Fall '08 term at UMass (Amherst).

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REFLECTION - REFLECTION (SHOE STORY) Some days walking out...

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