There's something about flip flops that I can't explain, like a life of their own and a part of mine that goes with them. They bond, cling, grasp and embrace the feet in such comforting ways forming a never ending romance for...sadly as long as they live...and no matter how many pairs I have, there's always that special pair that I go back to, that special, precious old and worn-out pair, but the most comfortable one.
As time goes by each and every summer the reunion is stronger and the feeling is more comfy than the previous season....but the scars and the signs of old flip flop age show more and more and even though I try not to be aware of the obvious, I gather the other pairs and keep them in sight, but utterly continue to live the last days of summer with my favourites, enjoying day by day each time with a greater sense of belonging and savouring all the lush and hampering they offer.
Until that inevitable moment, when a sudden move and a cracking sound took my breath away and for a moment I froze still, trying not to look at my feet and fearing the worse......I realized I had to say good bye to my lovely old worn out flip flops.
With a sigh, I remember what great companions you were and the time had come for us to part...if there is a flip flop heaven, you'll be there, I am sure.
...and now I have to choose which one will take your place, although I am absolutely sure that they will always remain in your shadow.
