Looking down

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My older and only sister used to say that what you wear describes you. When she said this, she would always look down at her feet then mine. She meant shoes if you couldn’t tell. I look back now, and I feel she is right, even now that I’m years older(But not many). She was a bright, fun, great girl, and she had shoes to match. The were red, or yellow, or even lime green. Her black converse had worn to a faded brown and had silver drawings on them. They made a statement, like she was saying “Hey, look, I’m fun!”. She was too. I’ve always worn boots. Up to my knee and leather. If i walked just right, you could see the little designs I would etch in the leather when boredom struck. I guess that meant I was interesting, but only up close and in the right ways of light. My oldest brother would always buy the cheapest shoes, and three days later( I kid you not!) they would have holes in them and be patched with duct tape. To me, this meant he was adventurous, but he would always get into trouble. That was also true. I shouldn’t have laughed at my sister when she would talk about shoes. I should have looked down more.






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