Two for twenty...twenty years later.

Becky and I each got shoes last night. I've managed to buy, sell, give, get, ruin, and out-grow plenty of shoes in the past two decades but these particular shoes happen to be part of a childhood wish-list that both of us remembered. It took Seth to grab them from our tight clutches while we stood there reminiscing in the middle of Urban Outfitters, bring them to the counter and buy them.

He declined a bag. He knew we'd walk out of the store with them on.

I'll spare you the details, especially since my memory isn't photographic, but I will tell you what I do remember. It was 1988. My family had recently moved to a campus/health retreat/missionary training center/commune/whatever else the adults did that I was too busy playing to notice. A friend of my parent's had come to visit. She was wearing the black Chinese ankle strap shoes that Becky and I had always wanted. Becky wanted the black ones with the rose embroidered on the toe and I had wanted them without. The lady noticed us spying her shoes and asked if we liked them. We both gave an awed yes that only six and eight-year-old girls can muster. Then, she did something that I hope she regrets to this day. She promised to buy us each a pair and send them back to us. We traced our feet on paper so she'd know our size. Becky and I waited and waited and waited and waited for them to arrive. As the years passed I would see them in stores and would occasionally try them on, but would eventually put them back on the shelf and tell myself that she had promised and I just needed to wait (I would occasional worry that she might get the size wrong since we'd grown a bit since we last traced our feet). We waited until last night when Seth finally shattered our hopes and dreams and told us she failed us and she wasn't going to buy them for us. He bought them for us instead.

Thanks Seth.