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He was a young boy in his teens and had just came over from Scotland. He went to the Human Resources office to fill out an application and found a very lovely young girl. She handed him the application and a pencil and he started filling it out. Not quite yet accustomed to how the date is written in the US, he filled out the date as he knew. Realizing he had made a mistake he found the young HR lady and then asked her for a rubber. A look of disgust and embarrassment came over the young girl’s face as it turned bright red. She flashed him a mean look and stormed out. The Scotsman, slightly intimidated by the good looking girl, had no clue what he said. A few minutes later, in walks the manager with the girl lingering in the back. He asked the Scotsman, may I help you? Yes please, I made a mistake filling out my application and need a rubber to correct it. The manager who finally pieces together what the young boy needed, replies with ohhhh…in this country, a rubber is called a condom. The Scotsman looks at the manager and says well, then can I have a condom?

True story.

I’m sure they were cheap, but it didn’t matter to me. They were my prized possession, and at age six, that means a lot. Black flip-flops with a rainbow design on the soft canvas straps. They took me everywhere. To the pool for Saturday morning swim meets, even though I would hide when my heat came up, out of shear terror for swimming the WHOLE LENGTH of the pool…BY MYSELF. To the park down the street, where the sand would flow freely through my toes, while seeing just how high I could get on the swings. And to the community beach as we and the twin boys from down the street would run back and forth on the docks, checking to see if we caught a crab, on our make-shift crabbing contraption.

They were the most fabulous pair of flip-fops I had ever had and I just knew I was one stylish little kid with them on. And then one summer afternoon I was running around outside, and it happened. The strap broke out of the middle from in between my toes, and my foot slid through. I was devastated. They were my favorite flip flops, and I just BROKE THEM.

Today, not surprisingly enough, I still have a mild obsession with shoes. I added a new pair to my collection, and can’t wait to break them in. I think I just may stop by the park and hop on the swings to give them a test run. And then again maybe, maybe it’s not just how fabulous they are, but how many miles you have walked in them and the memories they hold.