Writing Exercise Prompt: Shoes

Complaining with each wet squeak against mud-speckled linoleum tile, my shoes trudge through the line at the Altgeld Post Office. For whatever reason, no matter what season it is, there is always a line. The two ladies behind the counter are always patient and polite in inverse proportion to some of the people standing in line who complain about how "nothing in this university runs properly."

"We could be running or hiking one of the trails at Hoyt Arboretum right now. You probably just missed the magnolias blooming."

This has been their constant complaint with little variation other than "strolling in the Pearl District," "wandering through the rose garden," or other various pedestrian-related activities in the various locations of Portland, Oregon. Perhaps they have a thing for trees and rainy weather or big cities of steel and concrete due to the green trim on grey. Sometimes they chuff along the pavement and grumble at me while walking to or from work down Green Street. Other times, they catch me a bit closer to home.

"Don't get me wrong, it can be pretty here, but I honestly think I could do better."

I think I agree. This particular pair of shoes has grown fond of the uneven brick walks and roads which meander into the main artery of Green Street from my neighborhood in Urbana. They particularly relish the tickle of pine needles in the pythagorean path beneath the trees and between the perpendicular sidewalks. However, I understand how taking the same routes to the same places every day can take its toll.

"You know, I could have gone to a high school cross country runner in Kentucky, but I just had to end up with you, didn't I?"

At first, I thought that my shoes' lament stemmed from the fact that I didn't really use them as intended, for just plain running, not necessarily in Portland, but on some track, trail, or pavement. I could understand how staying still for so long could take its toll, but eventually, I got the idea that there was much more to it than that. They should know me better by now when I say "I should go running," what I really mean is "I should go running, but I probably won't."

"Let's get out of here. What have you got to lose anyway?"

I think I will go to Portland, OR. After all, how can I resist the direction my shoes seem to be pointing in, especially since they've been the most comfortable pair I've had to wear for work.