Goodbye my old friend,

You've been with me since I was fifteen. You've been with me at my highest and lowest. You've seen me at my most vulnerable, and you've always been there to support me. Thank you to my Birkenstocks.

Yes this a farewell letter to my Birkenstocks, but I loved them very much and I think that they deserve a proper goodbye. I remember getting them in the beginning of December on the sales rack at an Urban Outfitters and loving them right then and there. I wore them proudly the next day with a pair of white socks. I remember getting tons of comments about my choice of footwear but I didn't care because they were so freaking comfortable. I didn't care about what anyone else said.

Those sandals were my go-to shoe whenever I went out -- whether I was going to take the trash out or go out with my friends. Just like the U.S. Postal Service "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night " my birkes were there for me no matter what -- even that one time the TSA patted me down. Over time and as I got older I changed and they changed with me. They molded to my feet and knew how to support me. Even when my brothers wore them (we have the same shoe size) they wouldn't fit right. They were my shoes.

I think of all the trips that they've been on with me. They've touched the Atlantic in Outer Banks, and the Pacific in California. They've been in the valleys on Grand Canyon, and atop Glacier Point in Yosemite. They've traversed the woods of North Carolina and they've stroked the streets of Downtown LA. They've gone everywhere and that's probably why they've gotten so torn up. First, the straps faded because of all the time in the sun, then the soles lost their traction because they were so worn out, and a hole in the left heel then a hole in the right. I don't want to say goodbye but now I must.

Even though I got new Birkenstocks you will always be My Birkes and you can't be replaced.

Thank you for everything

Russell