Dear Pink and White High Top Sneakers I Had in Fifth Grade,
I picked you out myself. Your coolness was real. You were like Converse – but not Converse. You had two separate layers so you could be styled in multiple ways, flipping the outer pink layer down almost like peeling a banana. Edgy! It was exhilarating choosing something so unusual. Could I really do this?
Remember how hot it was in D.C.? I wore you just about every day of that trip. I bet some of your soles melted into the pavement. In my opinion: worth it. I needed to look cool on that trip and you were there for me.
It wasn’t until we got back home and I was doing something at school, standing on a chair to hang a poster on the wall or something like that, when I overheard two of my classmates talk about how weird you were. They didn’t understand you, they said. What kind of sneakers were you, they asked each other.
I’m sorry I didn’t wear you much after that. I always was pretty susceptible to peer pressure.
I guess I just wanted you to know that what I felt at the beginning – my conviction that you were the best, coolest pair of shoes and that you were made for me – was real, and I never forgot.
We’ll always have D.C.,
-e.