Meditation on a Pair of Worn-out Shoes

The other day I threw out my dad's shoes, which look worse from the back than from the front. My dad has worn his Dr. Scholls ragged over the past ten years, and commented recently that it was time for some new ones. I found two similar pairs in brown and "bone" from eBay, and he snapped them up delightedly when I dropped them off with him. He didn't flinch as he handed this ragged pair to me to discard.

But I found myself hesitating before tossing the worn out shoes in our trash barrel at home. It struck me that these are likely the last pair of shoes I'll replace for my dad. He's 88 years old and fragile, suffers from a spinal stenosis, and his health has been known to go south in a minute. Realistically, the new-to-him shoes from eBay will serve him for the remainder of his time here.

Raggedy shoes resting on the lid of the trash bin. It was one of those poignant moments, thinking about how quickly life passes by, and how--despite awareness of the inevitability of it--I won't be ready to handle it well when the time comes that my dad's shoes are no longer needed.