Happy It’s-Finally-Friday, awesome readers!
During this week’s running around craziness, I snuck-took this picture with my phone:
Now before you accuse me of being a stalker who takes random pictures of strangers, let me say this:
I took this picture because it made me think. And no, I was not drinking at the time. (I know this because it was early morning.)
Here’s what happened …
I was on my way to visiting a friend in the hospital – nothing serious but thanks for your concern – when I got lost trying to find her room. Apparently you don’t have to be driving to get lost. And when I say “you” I really mean me. (Why am I feeling the need to clarify that?)
Instead of wandering around and getting even more lost I decided to text my friend and ask her (again) which room she was in.
PS. This may be a good time to tell you that I’ve known said friend since almost eternally and she’s quite aware of my talent for getting lost. In fact, one of her favourite questions to me whenever I call her to tell her that I’m lost is, “what do you see?” To which I usually answer something like, “a white Toyota.” Over the years this has proven to be the wrong answer. EVERY TIME.
Back to my story …
After texting my friend (BTW, we’ll call her “Sally” because it’s a pretty name and Sally has asked not to be mentioned. Well not really but this saves me from asking her.) the first thing I saw as I looked up from my texting business was this lady’s shoes (pictured above). And the first word to pop in my head was “sensible” because that’s what her shoes were saying to me – in their quiet demeanour, of course.
And here’s where the “thinking” part comes in.
Suddenly I realized that we all judge each other BY OUR SHOES. And we do this without even thinking. (Well except that I thought about it but that’s just because I’m a serial over-analyzer.)
Then I got to thinking (yes, more thinking) that this sensible lady would probably be able to help me find my friend Sally’s room and so I said, “Excuse me. Do you know where Sally’s room is?” (Only I didn’t use the name “Sally”. I used her real name.)
And do you know what she answered? Of course you don’t because you weren’t there but let me tell you. She answered, “No, but if you hum a few bars I might be able to guess.”
That’s when I realized that our choice of shoes have absolutely nothing to do with who we are. And to prove my point, I looked down at my own feet and remembered that I was wearing my cowboy boots. If you don’t know me in real life, I don’t have cows. I have dogs. See my point?
All that to say that I think we should stop judging each other by our shoes.
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