This is the shoe I wore when I first began walking. Ive been told I was about 10 months old -I honestly do not remember, nor wish to debate the details with others. The exact time isn't important.
What is important is that this item is about 58 years old. I've had possession of it most of that time -holding on to it through 6 major moves. For a while, it was displayed in my parent's living room -alongside my older brother's bronzed first baby shoe-until such things didn't fit with the updated decor. I was about 8 when it came to reside in my room.
In part, I keep it because nobody else would want it. An anonymous single silvered shoe at a garage sale or thrift store would languish until they chose to discard it. So I keep.
I like that the shoe laces look soft and sloppy even though they have been frozen in time in that sloppy pose. The bell does not ring any longer -telling the world where to find me -and where I'm heading. I understand they no longer recommend that children use these shoes -instead going for softer materials that let the foot learn to explore it's universe on it's own. Perhaps that's another to keep this: it holds the memory of a world that was firm and fast, unbending, as my little feet learned to play the earth's rules.