Monday, March 9, 2009

KFC, the Beach, and Horse-back riding

Nahr El Bared camp
Sunday - March 8 - 2009

Sponsors: Melek, Joumana
Facilitators: Lina, Cecile

I first noticed her boots when we arrived at the beach. I had to look twice. How similar they were to my sneakers. I had yet to meet another person with the same unique mark on their footwear such as mine. Many of my friends give me a hard time because I carefully cut a thin line in the front of my sneakers. These particular sneakers are a size 47.5, however, I should really be wearing a size 48. I very seldom can even find a 47.5 in Lebanon – so, a trick the PE teacher at my school taught me, was, in order to gain another half size, cut the front seam out a bit. This way your toes don’t cram in the front. So, with each new step you take now, the sneaker front fans out a bit – making way for more toe room. It’s a neat little trick. Since this special procedure, these sneakers are just the right fit for me. But, it doesn’t come without a hitch: Though a comfy fit, I am now subject to water and sand always sneaking in, and as well, many close friends never passing on a moment to make fun of my special shoes that “smile” whenever I walk.

When I saw her boots, I noticed the same cut in the front of them. Actually, on her boots, it was more of a tear – and a bit larger than mine. But her tear wasn’t to gain an extra half size. And her tear wasn’t intentional. The more I investigated, the more I became disenchanted. Her boots were simply falling a part from just being worn down – beginning from that front seam.

I wondered if people made fun of her boots too.

I really wanted to somehow tell her not to feel bad, and give her some solace by showing her that my sneakers had a rip in them too. But I thought she’d probably feel uncomfortable with such a lame attempt to make her feel better about her second-hand dying boots. I didn’t say anything.

Once home from the day’s trip, as I kicked off my slitted sneakers, a whole bunch of sand from the beach and the horse stables went flying with them onto my bedroom floor. I reflected for a moment, and then wondered if perhaps at this same exact moment, she was kicking off her boots in the camp, and the sand flying on her floor too – next to her smiling boots.




























No comments:

Post a Comment