Three days ago, I posted a blog on the miraculous recovery of Hannah’s sandal from the side of the New York Thruway. Click here for that blog. Teacher/blogger/former UNE student of mine Molly Hogan suggested I write from the sandals point of view. Challenge accepted.
Really! You are just leaving me here. It’s damp, gravelly, and my goodness the cars and trucks are roaring by. I can hardly hear myself think. As I was minding my own business on the floor beneath Hannah’s feet as she drove, their car slows, and all of sudden I’m dumped by the side of road. And then she and her loser hubby (really that’s too harsh, just unobservant) drive off in their fancy, shmacy Prius.
And all the while, these two clueless ones have no idea that I am back by the side of the road. Oh, she’ll find out soon enough and wonder how he could have been so careless. There’ll be smoke coming out of her ears, I predict, when she learns of my predicament.
I know their itinerary is traveling to Ithaca, Syracuse, and Old Forge, New York, and then returning home by this very thruway in two days. Lying four feet off the shoulder in these nasty small stones, I’m starting to itch and damn if those aren’t storm clouds above.
You know, I had it pretty sweet, nestled on the top bookshelf in their bedroom. It’s warm there, and she takes me out when she wants to kick back, be uber comfortable. I am her go-to shoe. She gently caresses me with her foot as she slides in. She’s light, delicate and gives me just the right Reiki massage on a daily basis.
She found me at Marshall’s after months of looking for just my style. She loves me. She said so. As dark approaches, car after truck ignores me, and for that I am thankful. I am waiting for my deliverance back to Maine.
Two days later – I am certain that she hasn’t slept well thinking of me lost and alone. He has his doubts, but damn, he’ll support her come hell or high water. She is the girl of his dreams going on 51 years. She’s the faith; he’s the what-the-hell, let’s-give-it-a-shot guy.
By later afternoon Thursday, I still don’t see their Silver Prius with Maine plates. And now it’s time for me to have faith in the Sandal God. I close my straps and pray for the return of her loving foot embrace.
A little before 5P, for the fifteenth time a car pulls over, the last time to change a tire, but this time it’s his yuppie Prius. OMG. She’s driving, he jumps out with the cars racing by, cradles me, and returns me to the most appreciative sandal wearer in the Known World. Clearly, the Sandal God answers prayers.