This is a hard goodbye letter to write. You were one of my most favorite pairs of shoes. You even earned me the nickname "Imelda" in the little town of Uncertain, TX. I still remember the day you arrived: late spring, how bright the sky was, the trees beginning to become full and green, the excitement as I dug through all the tissue paper to try you on, and the bliss my feet felt when I slipped them into the buttery soft leather.
You served me well for a lot of years. Sadly, I have not treated you as well as you deserved to be treated and I have allowed you to slip into a shabby state that can't be remedied. As much as I love you, it's time to take you out of rotation in my closet.
It's proving too hard to say goodbye, so I think I'm going to say "until I see you again" and go put you next to the bed to serve as my slippers to be worn with pyjamas at night after I've showered away the day"s dust and grit.
We had a good run of it out in public. We attracted attention (the good kind), and we walked many many miles together. Thank you for your service, you will be sorely missed.
I've known many garments in my day. Some I should never have met; others were dear friends. These are my tributes to the ones I had to let go.