Thursday, September 30, 2010

A Great Gust of Wind

Family photo taken from the bedroom window
What's the story behind those shoes dangling from telephone lines? How do they end up there?  

Strewn randomly across lines in the sky, they seem to be everywhere once you become aware of them - by schools, near tree tops, on lone highways, in fields, at parks.

Is it just pranksters pulling Pumas from gym bags, then tossing them up in the air? Or is it something more sinister that draws my attention to footwear foisted onto high wires?

My son David’s old Nike gym shoes have been suspended from the pine tree in front of our house for several seasons. 

At first, I didn't mind. He’s eighteen and I barely get to see him these days between work and school and friends and getaways.
The shoes gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling that he really enjoyed "hanging around" his family, pun intended.

One day soon, like a great gust of wind, he’ll be moving on. That makes me melancholy and moments like that don’t come with operating instructions. 

I tell myself that the shoes are a sign of a truly lived-in, comfy home. 
In reality, the ratty old sneakers have taken on all the romance of a white trash tree ornament. I want them removed. But I am powerless to eradicate the situation because another mother has entered the scene.

Earlier this year, a chickadee built her nest in them. Not in one shoe, but both of them. 

At first, I was smitten by this dangling duplex for my feathered friends. Now, not so much.

So, another season unfolds. Summer is turning into fall. Then winter will be here again.

 The birds have left. The shoes and the Man-Child son remain.

These days, it just doesn’t feel right to shake the shoes from their branches. They’ll just have to dangle. 

Demolition has been delayed and I’m left awaiting further operating instructions.

That, or a great gust of wind.