Date: Saturday, June 14, 2025
Mood: Practical
Music: Run by Snow Patrol
Dear Richard,
I went shoe shopping with Levi today. He needed new loafers for a conference. We were at Neiman Marcus. He sat in the leather chair, trying on Italian leather, discussing arch support with the salesman.
"I’m a 10 and a half," Levi said. "Standard width."
I stared at the metal measuring device on the floor.
Size 11. Wide.
That was you. You had those big, flat, Midwest feet. You used to complain that designer shoes pinched your toes. You wore those ugly, white, sensible New Balance sneakers for your clinical rotations. You wore them until the soles flapped open and you had to duct tape them shut because we couldn't afford a new pair that month.
I looked at Levi’s feet. Perfectly manicured in expensive socks, sliding effortlessly into a $600 shoe.
I wanted to buy a pair of size 11s. Just to hold them. Just to remember the weight of the shoes you used to leave by the front door.
I bought nothing. Levi bought two pairs.
I hope you finally got some comfortable shoes, Rich. I hope your feet don't hurt anymore.
Love always,
Taylor