Grief & Guilt

It may seem a little extreme that I'm experiencing the two Gs over the demise of my favorite shoe store, the one closest to my home. The truth is, I'm obsessed with shoes. Shoes run a close second behind my perfume fetish, and I probably have as many pairs of shoes as I have bottles of perfume. Maybe more.

The route I take to work after first making a bank stop puts me at the intersection where I used to have so much BOGO fun. My heart almost stopped when I noticed the empty, deserted store. Then, for a moment, I considered the possibility that the store had moved to a better location, perhaps even closer to my home. A new highway is going in and much construction has taken place. That's it, they had to close to make room for the new highway. But just as that thought was filling me with comfort, I noticed the dreaded "for sale" sign at the edge of the property: Free-standing building for sale.

The grief set in, that awful feeling of loss. Yes, that store has chains all over the area, but this one was close, was convenient, was the one in my city that I should have supported. That's when the guilt sets in. I didn't buy enough shoes. Maybe if I'd purchased just a few more pairs the store might still be operating. It's a horrible feeling to think you have let down a trusted friend, one who was there when you needed a pair of shoes to match the new salmon blouse, or the charcoal sweater.

It's not like I didn't try. I was a faithful customer. I've walked out of that store with a big sack of shoes. Name the color, I have it. I have many pairs of black and white sandals, many in varying shades of pink, orange, and green. I have red, purple, aqua (can't spell the more accurate color), yellow, gold, silver, and brown. And, of course, the basic black and brown boots for fall and winter. I did try to keep them in business. It's the times I left there empty handed that fill me with guilt.

Now, I don't pretend to have enough money to buy the very best in footwear. Especially in every color. That's why this store was very dear to me. They provided an assortment of affordable shoes that gave me the feeling of expensive indulgence. How fun it was to open the closet, scan the two wall-hanging shoe racks and the two big storage bins and select the perfect shoes for the day's outfit. Still, I should have done more.

I will now have to spread my patronage to other stores in the area and hope that I can rectify the damage I did to the poor deserted store not far from my home. I vow to never walk out empty handed again. I will take full advantage of every BOGO, and update my summer and winter collections every year. I will add new colors and styles. I will not allow another store to close because I failed to do my part.

Looking down at my beaded black sandals it hit me that they are two years old. Yes, I have newer black sandals, but these are my favorite. And I bought them there, the closed store that had offered me many shopping pleasures. I wish I'd bought half a dozen just like them. Maybe then I'd be able to open that door and enter shoe paradise again.