With the recycling and trash can full of diapers and coffee grounds my Black Pumas were going to their eternal resting place. More then likely they were getting pulled out in 20 minutes when the guy comes around to collect the bottle and cans from our recycling but walking out there I mourned as if they were being retired. Four years ago, while living on the couch at a friends place waiting to move to Indy and marry my beautiful, my friend Dave had an extra pair of black Pumas. It might have been a wedding gift or just Dave being the nice guy that he is but he gave me the shoes the day before getting on the plane. For some reason those shoes represented something about Santa Barbara, something about friends left behind, something bigger then rubber and leather. I love those shoes and think about a season of life each time I put them on. The thing is they were a little small. I didn’t really fit into them comfortably, and I know the connection is obvious and if I were a better writer I would just let you figure it out instead of telling you, but I didn’t fit in Santa Barbara perfectly either. I liked the way I looked and for the most part I was comfortable but every once in a while my toes would get sore and I needed to take the shoes off. I took them to the trash yesterday and placed them on top of the lid of the trash can. Someone else will probably take them and I hope they fit them better. I hope they are more comfortable with where they are, then I was with where I was. There just shoes after all, just really cool shoes that didn’t fit, that I wore for too long.