I love me some fluffy slippers. The ones that pull out all the stops: pastel colors, bunnies on the toes, and excess fluff. Seriously, gimme ALL THAT. There’s nothing better than luxuriating in front of a fire with my tea, my sweatpants, and my fuzzy bunny slippers. And I was able to accomplish this on a fairly regular basis for the majority of my life.
And then something terrible happened. We moved. Now, in a normal moving situation, this would not interfere with my slipper-wearing. However, one teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy detail would destroy our (that’s me and my bunny slippers) world.
My room was an outbuilding in the yard.
Because my plush footwear would not survive the outdoors, and certainly not the winter flooding, my mother returned one evening from the mall with a new pair of slippers.
Sure, they were comfortable and slip on, but they WERE NOT slippers. They were shoes, and granny shoes at that. They covered my entire foot with an ugly black material that was NOT fluffy, and was definitely NOT a bunny. The things had treads. They were hiking slippers.
I had no choice though. Sometimes the hardest decisions are those you don’t have to make. My bunny slippers would be stained by dirt and mud. In order to save them, I had to give them up. If I loved them, I would let them go.
I retired them to storage. Perhaps they would mold, perhaps they would slowly disintegrate over the years. It was not a concern of mine, though. I had to move on.
But this is not a story of heart-wrenching loss. This is a story of adapting, and maybe even finding love. I was filled with resentment each time I pulled on my ugly hiking slippers, but slowly, over time, the hatred faded away. I entered a neutral state. As my footwear began to stink with excessive use, I began to feel a fondness for the ugly shoes I had hated so much upon first sight. And perhaps, I thought, one day, I would learn to love them.
Months later, those terrible black shoes would wear out. As I threw their worn out and smelly remains into the trash, I felt a tinge of regret. As it turned out, I had grown to love them. Sometimes, you don’t realize that you love something until you let it go.
I am ready to move on again. But each time I discard a pair of slippers, I will always think back to that first pair of bunny slippers, and the day that I had to give them and their kind up forever.
*Cue general weeping throughout audience*