To my son.

A few things to know going into your 29th year.

 
Today, I’m thinking about my father’s shoes.

I remember being young and needing to run outside to retrieve something––be it a trunk full of groceries, a Crayola-colored Gamebody wedged somewhere in the many armpits of my mother’s Honda Odyssey or some suddenly remembered toy from the past, collecting dust in the depths of my parent’s garage––and, for whatever reason, deciding that my own shoes wouldn’t do.

And so I would slip on my father’s enormous size 13s and I would hustle out the door like a scuba diver who had suddenly found himself beached in Southern Indiana a thousand miles from sea.

As my little feet slid inside their vast caverns like a drunken passenger aboard a topsy-turvy ocean liner––my feet just big enough to keep my father’s shoes level until the next footfall––I recall feeling daunted at the possibility of ever filling them.

 
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Πηγή: getthesticky.com