Poem~"Silencing Suicide"~AF~12

Sometimes I feel like I am going to die here...

At this desk,
In front of this computer,
I watch these stupid blue walls.
They laugh at me.

Sometimes I can see my last moments...

While I listen to this angry middle eastern man yell.
I hear the cackle of the walls.
Excited because they have finally driven me mad.
The stupid blue walls become water and they drown me.

Sometimes I picture myself at age sixty-four...

Two days away from blessed retirement,
When I choke on a disclosure.
People try to save me,
But the Heimlich is no match for meaningless words.

These are the thoughts that make me want to die.

But like, in the middle of a party.
So the last thing I hear will be laughter.
The last thing I see an awkward chicken dance.
My last feelings, joy and happiness.


I can’t do that though; I’d miss the rest of the party.

Maybe I should die in the arms of the love of my life.
That way, I can die with the taste of his lips still on my tongue.
I can die feeling safe and warm in his arms.
I can listen to his heartbeat sing me to sleep.

But I know I couldn’t do it; I would just want to grow old there.

I realize that I don’t want to die.
I want to fall in love and love long after we are both grey with deep smile lines.
I want to throw a party and laugh and dance like a crazy person.
I want to make this world better, do something worth something.

But all I do is recite meaningless scripts until my day is done.

I tell God, “Give me purpose or give me death!”
I cry, “If this is all life is I don’t want it!”
I say, “Take this life and give it to someone who will appreciate it!”
I scream, “Give it to someone who actually thinks this meaningless existence is a gift!”

But only part of me wants to die, the other part just yells at me.

She tell me, “Shut up! Be grateful you’re not starving or homeless!”
She cries, “Kill yourself then! Watch your mother find you dead in here from beyond the grave!”
She says, “Watch her cry! After she did war with poverty and grown men just to keep you alive!”
She screams, “Suck it up! Do you realize you are blubbering because there is no one to play with!”

I try to suck it up and calm down.

I listen to the house creek, and the refrigerator hum.
I listen to how beautiful the silence is when I am not hyperventilating.
That’s when I hear God's calm whisper, “You just wait.”
This was not my own mind’s attempt to save myself.

I know this because I have never been that calm.

I don’t even know what I am waiting for,
But I just do what He says.
Because I will not watch my mother find me lifeless from beyond the grave.
Because if I die, I will miss something worth living for.

So, I fight for my life and win again.

I yell at Depression, “You cannot have me! As hard as I cry, I will always laugh harder!”
I scream at Suicide, “Give up!  I will always find a better reason to stay alive than to die!”
I whisper to Anxiety, “Darling. I will be fine without your constant warnings of nonexistent danger.”
I let her know, “Whatever comes or doesn’t come I can handle it without her. I’m strong enough.”

And this is not personification.

Depression, Suicide, and Anxiety are real demons.
They really scream at me from inside my mind.
They make me feel horrible things.
They make me think like a crazy person.


Mom, don't worry.  I promise I will always stay alive long enough for the Voice of Calm to silence them.

~Acacia Faye

Background for the poem: So I work in call center. I take calls all day. Sometimes doing nothing meaningful all day just gets to me. This poem was inspired by a terrible week I had. Literally, everyday when I woke up something awful would happen in my adult life. Not to mention our other call center shut down for that week. So we were getting back to back calls from customers who were mad because they had been on hold so long. It was a stressful week altogether. Somewhere in the middle of the week I had the whole, "Just give me something meaningful to do or kill me." Conversation with God. He said, "You just wait." Honestly, I'm not quite sure what God wants me to do or what life holds, but I am expecting amazing things, because that's how God works. I know if I don't wait and see, I'll miss something and I don't want to miss anything. So, here is my advice to anyone who is struggling, even if you're atheist, just do what God said, "You just wait." You never know what you'll find when the horrifying season in your life is over. Just push through it. You're strong enough.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or feelings. Know that you are not alone. There is always someone out there who understands. Reach out to someone you trust. Here are some links to an organization that is opened 24 hours a day everyday of the week for no other reason, but to help you live another day. Don't try and fight this alone. We need each other.

The National Suicide Hotline Call 1-800-273-8255chat is available toohttps://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

Story ~ "When My Mouth Opened" ~ AF ~ 5

When My Mouth Opened

By: Acacia Faye

     When I was a child, the sirena only had one purpose among the triton. We were to breed with the them. The triton believed they all needed a smaller triton that looked like them. They took them from us after they were weened and raised them to believe they were above us. Our entire purpose was to make the baby triton and give them away when it was time.

     We lived in the coldest, darkest part of the ocean. The triton lived in the castle on top of the hill beside us. We couldn't swim or explore too much. The triton told us it was because a sirena was most beautiful when she was skinny, not muscular. But, it was really because if we got strong, they could no longer control us. The triton brought us enough food to keep us alive, but not enough to create the beautiful curves that we wear with such pride now. 

     If we swam passed the foreign artifact for any reason, at any time, we would be punished. I saw the triton punish my mom's best friend as a kid. She had just had a beautiful baby sirena. The baby needed her to produce milk. She couldn't because she herself was starving. So, she took a chance that no one else would have dared. She waited until all of the triton had left for the day. It was the perfect time because it was to be a full moon that day. The triton always go to watch the moon hit the ocean.  My mom and several other sirena tried to stop her, but they couldn't. She told them in our own way of communicating, "I don't care what they do to me. My baby needs food to live." She broke away from the other sirena. All of the sirena just watched her as she swam into the forbidden sea. 

We were all nervous, but no one expected one of the triton to come back. He found her right as she had crammed the last bite of fish in her mouth. He took the sirena by her gorgeous red curls, opened his mouth and made sound in her ear. You see, sirena can't make sound, we wouldn't want to. I'm not sure I have the words to describe how it hurts our ears when the triton make sound. Everything in the sea hears a triton's sound. If he makes sound in your ear, you will never hear again and be glad of it because you will never again have to hear that awful noise. Not long after that, all of the triton in our glamor were on top of her, ripping out her gorgeous curls. They never grew back. 

My mom said, "You shouldn't have done that. You should have waited for them to feed us." 
"Look," she said as she lifted her baby to her chest, "my baby eats."
I know it doesn't make sense, but ever since that moment, I wanted to be just like her.

     One of the triton picked me to be his breeder.  Every.  Freaking.  Time.  There was something terrible about him. I mean all of the triton were terrible, but this one especially. He was the leader of our glamour and I hated him. I can't tell you why he got under my skin so much, but every time he came for me I pictured him dying mid-breed. He was old, with a grey beard and these offensive green eyes. He had this way of swimming... and communicating...and chewing, even pooping that just made me angry. Every move he made was more arrogant than anyone. I still can't understand how someone can poop as if he thought he excreted waste better than anyone. 
   
     When the triton came back from one of their excursions, he would come to me. If I wasn't pregant, he would take me. Again. This time I was. I thanked God for the baby in my womb because for the year it took for the baby to come, no one would touch me. It was a triton.  We knew this because one of the sirena in our glamour can tell by putting her ear to our bellies. I was almost happy for him. How is a mother supposed to feel knowing her baby would one day grow to oppress her and yet would never be oppressed because of it?

When a triton reached the age of seventeen, they had The Ceremony of Tritonhood. We were only allowed to know about the part of the ceremony that concerned us.They brought our seventeen year old baby tritons in to pick the prettiest sirena to breed with. To be chosen at the ceremony of tritonhood was the highest honor. They lined us all up and examined every inch of us.  When he chose, he held her up in the air like a prize and carried her to the castle, then he would feed her double the size of our regular portions.
 
I had two more triton before my oldest reached seventeen. After examining us all, every young gorgeous sirena in our glamour, he picked me. I had never seen a young triton pick his mother before. They always picked younger, prettier sirena, the ones who are barely old enough to breed.  I thought, "Surely, he doesn't know I am his mother. He was too young when he was taken from me."  So, I politely told him. I caught every eye. The sirena all looked at me terrified. My mother tried to swim towards me, but the other sirena held her back. 

The old, arrogant triton that I hated knocked me out of consciousness with his tail. I then understood why I hated him so. His tail print marked me from the bottom of my stomach to the top of my head. It looked horrible, but when I woke up I still had to breed with my son. That's when I realized what a dishonor this great honor was.
 
After I was permitted to come home, my mom was there in an instant, doctoring my wounds, laying me down, and bringing me food. "Daughter, when your baby triton leaves you, he is no longer yours. You are his potential breeder. Nothing more. Just like the instant a baby sirena is born, she is no longer the triton's daughter. She is his potential breeder."

All of a sudden, I was curious.
"Which one of the triton is no longer my father?"
"You don't need to know."
She tried to swim away, but I wouldn't let her.
"Which one!?"
I was angry now. I felt I had a right to know. We all had a right to know. 
"Leader." 

     I had no idea I could find anymore hatred in my heart for him, but I did. I literally prayed for him to die. To who? I don't know. But when you're powerless, you just need someone to pray to. You just have to hope something out there is listening. Maybe God was a shark and would eat him for me. I fell asleep as I prayed. I dreamed of God. In my dream, God was a shark with hands to communicate like us. "You eat him." 
I said, "I can't. He's too big. He's too strong."
He started swimming away. "Open your mouth and eat him."  
"I can't." I kept saying, "I can't." But, he kept swimming. 
I looked around and I realized I was swimming in the exact spot where my mom's best friend lost her hearing. I panicked and swam as fast as I could back to safety, but there was a giant wall where the foreign artifact was supposed to be. So, I swam up and kept swimming until I ran into something. It was Leader. He grabbed my hair and I opened my mouth and I woke up. 

     I told my mother about the dream, but she stopped me. "Never tell anyone about this. Dreams like this are a death sentence. The triton would kill you if they knew you even had it. They fear dreams like this spark rebellions. They would count it as treason." 

     A few years later, I had the most beautiful sirena baby in the world. There was no way I could be sad that day. She lit up my entire world. The best part was, I would never have to give her away. I knew it was a selfish reason to be happy, but I now had something to live for.

     I was distraught when she turned thirteen. She was old enough to breed. That very day, guess who came: Leader. But, not for me this time, instead he came for her. He came for my child! His child! I was too angry to think. Sometimes, you just can't think. You act before you know you've done it. I jumped between them and before he realized what happened, I opened my mouth, wide. I guess I thought I was really going to eat him, but I let something came out instead.  It wasn't sound and I couldn't see it, but it was everything I had been feeling for years. It was what I wished for most. It was the death of Leader. It was the rebellion of my mom's best friend. It was the power of God, the shark. It was the love of a mother coming out of my mouth. It was so many things and it was all too much for Leader. He couldn't even make sound. He grabbed at his neck like I was choking him and fell over dead. 

     There was stillness among the sirena after the death of Leader. I wasn't sure if the stillness was to honor the dead or the soon to be dead. This was treason. I was going to die, but I was going to die fighting, because I had already started. So I grabbed Leaders body, held it above my head, and threw it in the middle of the sirena calling them all to battle. My mom's best friend, bald as she was, grabbed my hand. My daughter grabbed my other hand, and my mom hers. Pretty soon, everyone was holding hands, telling me in our own way they would die fighting, too. 

     We waited hand in hand, completely still for the rest of the triton. Soon, one came, saw his fallen leader, and made sound. This sound was different. It wasn't as loud or painful, or maybe we were just getting stronger.  In a few seconds, all of the triton in our glamour were there. One of them asked who did it and I opened my mouth, wide again. The four triton closest to me followed their leader in death. That started the war. They came after all of us. Some sirena found their God power. Some didn't. We killed several triton. They killed several sirena. Some lost their hair and some lost their hearing, but we won. I mean, we killed the most. I mean, the triton surrendered. I mean, we'll never be bothered again, but no one wins wars. Everyone loses something. I lost my mom and several brave sirena, but I still had her best friend and my daughter. 

     I went back to where I slept. I found my first son, who was no longer my son. He was crying. I had never seen a triton cry before. He said, "I'm sorry mom. I shouldn't have bred you. I should have picked someone else when you said you were my mom. I should have stood up for you. I shouldn't have let Leader hit you. I'm so sorry!"

     I should have told him to leave. I should have opened my mouth again and let my God power kill him. I should have eaten him, like the God-shark said, but I couldn't. He was my son no matter how many people tried to tell me he wasn't. I couldn't say anything. I was actually proud. Out of all the triton, my child was the only one who was strong enough to say he was wrong, to cry, to apologize. I took my baby boy into my arms and held him there as he cried and thanked God for him as I did when he was inside my womb. 

  

  

Prose ~ "Grandpa's Ramblings: Eggs and Candy." ~ AF ~ 4

Grandpa's Ramblings: Eggs and Candy

By: Acacia Faye

"Now listen here kid, lemme tell you 'bout Easter."

"I know all about Easter Grandpa.  Find the eggs.  Eat the candy.  Easter's over." 

"You don't know nothin' about Easter, knuckle-head.  Shut up and listen!  You 'member that Jesus character we talk about sometimes?" 

"Yes Grandpa.  I remember Jesus and God and he made world and died for our sins because we're all terrible people and would burn in hell if it weren't for his sacrifice blah blah blah." 

"Yeah great, so you know the story.  You don't seem to get it though." 

"What do you mean I don't get it?  I've heard it all my life.  What's not to get?"

"Lemme tell you a different way.  A boy and his father went campin'.  Now the boys father specifically told him if he saw a bear, back away slowly.  Don't try to run and definitely don't try to fight it.  Now the boy went to find good spot to pee.  His dad was gettin' the tent set up, when he heard the boy scream and went runnin' after him.  He found a bear about maul his son.  He wasn't sure he could save him, the bear was too close, but he come in a-hollarin' and a-wavin' anyway.  He found a cub behind the bear.  Goin' for that cub was a sure fire way to get his attention, but he knew if he did, he would definitely die.  He grit his teeth and did it anyway.  Anythin', on the off chance that he might save his boy.  'DAD!!!!'  The boy cried out as he ran toward his father. 

'Run boy!  Run home!'  That was all he could get out before the bear knocked him across the way and he blacked out, not knowin' what his son did, if he listened and made it home safe or if he didn't and tried to fight the bear and died too." 

"That's not what they teach in Church Grandpa."

"No it's not.  But it's the story of a man sacrificin' himself on the off chance that his boy would make the right decision and be saved.  That's God's story.  That's good Friday." 

"Okay.  I get that. So what happened to the boy?"

"The boy run home, told his mom what happened.  They cried a lot and everyone kept bringin 'em food, like food could erase the memory of his dad and make it all better.  The kids at school couldn't stop starring at him like he was going to pitch a fit in the middle of class or somethin'.  A few days later, guess who walks through the door?"

"More old ladies with food?" 

"Nope! His dad, not a scratch on him, with the head of that bear stuffed and ready to mount on the wall."

"I thought you said the bear knocked him out?  He couldn't come out of that alive being knocked out.  That's impossible!" 

"Exactly!  There was no way he coulda lived, but he was right there in front of the boy.  He hugged him and everything.  The boy wasn't nuts, he was really there.  That's whatcha call good news and that's why everyone celebrates on Easter." 

"So what's all that got to do with bunnies and eggs and candy?"

"Well youngin', I have no idea. But, if I had to guess, I might say it's got somethin' to do with the impossible, 'cause bunnies don't lay eggs and men don't come back from the dead.  I might say, it's got somethin' to do with new life what with the eggs and the children and things.  I might say, it's got somethin' to do with people being ridiculously happy what with the girl's feelin' the need to wear dresses with flowers on them and the way the world feels the need to paint itself with pastels and things.  I might say the candy companies were just sick o' waitin' for halloween to get all their money, so they thought of the dumbest way possible to celebrate a resurrection, and we all bought it.  Either way, that's Easter and it ain't got nothin' to do with candy and eggs."

Essay ~ Easter ~ NL ~ 4

Easter

By: Naomi Lea

     Easter is the holiday of brightly colored dresses and ovular shaped chocolates. It's the holiday of that annoying, stringy, fake grass that people keep putting it in plastic wrapped gift baskets. The world is painted in pastels and the weather slowly begins to permit short sleeves.

    
     Humanity as a whole should be so happy as earth's seasonal changes bring about new life; as spring bursts forth from its restful, silent, wintry state. Though there are natural fireworks of celebration occurring in nature, how is it possible that a person can be sad or depressed? Especially when there is nothing really wrong with her life?

     This person is also a Christian and should have a deeper connection to Easter and its significance in her life. A Christian believes that Christ died and was resurrected three days later to save creation from sin. That is more than enough to be happy about, yet this girl found no special thrill as the holiday approached.

     Every Sunday since the beginning of Lent, she kept making resolutions to start anew in certain aspects of her life; a new gym membership, a diet, a prayer regimen, new organizational apps, and the restarting of hobbies. Though she tried again and again to change and renew her life and find passionate ambitions again, nothing stuck. After a few days she would lose the drive; become lazy, restless, and self-pitying.

     Then she remembered the movie Thumbelina, the cartoon version by Fox and Warner Bros. It showed the "changing of the leaves" as a festival for the fairies. They would fly throughout the world and change the summer saplings into red, orange, and brown bowers. The change could not happen without the fairies' magic and without their doing, there wouldn't be the four seasons.

     Just as the world couldn't change on its own, neither could she change her own life without the power of the one who created the world. She tried to do all these things within her own strength. That is why they all failed. That is also why the failure stunned her into regression; it was a stymie in which she felt completely alone. As she continued to try again with yet another surely fool-proof plan, the cycle continued, resulting in the fall and stagnation of what she deemed as progress.

     This was continuing on until this girl had a heart to heart with her mother. Mothers play such variant roles at all our stages in life and this time, her mother came in as the ultimate preacher and motivational life coach. After tears of frustration and confusion were shed, it became clear to the girl that the problem lay within her will to do things on her own. She realized that, as cliche as it may sound: God is in control and He is the one that makes changes, not any earthly power.

     With that reawakening, she thought again towards Easter and what it meant. That resurrection of life, that ability to commune with God could not have happened with just humans willing it to be so. Even if people did their best to follow all of God's ordinances, waking up each day with good intentions not to sin, such strategies would not prevail. It's clearly recorded how well that plan worked in the Old Testament. The only way forward is to submit to the power of God, just as nature laid open and vulnerably submitted to the fairy magic which wrought the most beautiful changes.

     So as Easter drew near yet again, the girl thought to herself that maybe it was time to stop trying to make herself new. Instead, she figured she would let the fairy magic take root and transform her into whatever God had planned for her. She would be like the trees and flowers who have no choice but to obey their maker. She would wake up not trying to find out what gives her drive and motivation, but instead seek it through prayer and scripture. As she pondered such thoughts, she grew excited and eager for the coming Easter. It would be truly be a time of celebration, for now she knew that it would not be about her becoming new, but about new life being manifested within her. It would not be about cleaning up her own life and implementing changes, but laying down all personal agendas and allowing herself to be touched and washed. It was about putting down, not putting on. Just as Christ put down himself so that we may have life, so it is for the Believer to put down her own self.

     The girl now looked to the coming Easter with a quiet happiness. Her life felt rekindled. She knew with a blessed assurance that the fairy magic would keep changing the seasons and that God would bring changes in her, too.

Story ~ Buy the Red Shoes ~ AF ~ 3

     When Sue turned eighteen, she noticed adulthood coming for her fast like a cheetah intent on devouring her.  She could never be fast enough to get away.  So, she made a list of things she would do before she died. But she never called it a bucket list. The name "bucket list" seemed too adventurous.  These were normal things that everyone should do to have the perfect life, and one more thing:

1.  Find a fabulous husband

2.  Buy or build a gorgeous house

3.  Have two children (preferably a boy first then a girl) 

4.  Buy red shoes

     The first thing she did the day her fabulous husband gave her a little bit of money to, "Go and buy herself something pretty," was go to the store to get the perfect red shoes.  When she tried them on, she realized she had nothing to wear with them.  What did a person wear with red shoes?  

"Cute shoes."  Said the lady who she hadn't realized was next to her.  She was wearing red shoes, red lipstick, and there was a little bit of red in her top.  She looked great, but Sue could never pull off such a look. Sue looked down at the shoes said, "Yeah."  

"You going to get them?" 

"No.  I have nothing to wear with them."

"Oh I'm sure you'd find something.  I got mine after I started my business.  I figured if I were brave enough to be a woman who started a business, I could most certainly be brave enough to wear red shoes.  I know it's silly, but they are my favorite shoes.  They make me feel like I could wrestle an alligator if I wanted to."

"You know, it's actually not that silly."

     But, Sue couldn't bring herself to take the risk.  She realized it took a sort of boldness to wear red shoes in public; the kind of boldness it takes for a woman to start a business, wrestle an alligator, write a one hit wonder, swim with an elephant, or try out for the lead role in a Hollywood movie.  The boldness of bucket lists.  So she decided not to get them until she did something worthy of a woman who wears red shoes.

     Throughout Sue's life she got everything on her list: the fabulous husband, the gorgeous house, and she even had two kids. A boy first, named Samuel, and then a girl named Brittany, just as she planned. The kids kept her very busy.  She woke up every morning, packed their lunches, got them up and ready for school, fed them breakfast, and sent them out the door.  Then she would do the dishes, the laundry, and whatever else needed doing.  When the kids were grown, she dedicated her entire life to her husband.  Making breakfast, packing his lunch, making dinner, cleaning the house,  tying his tie every morning, and kissing him goodbye and hello everyday.  This was her life.  It was a lovely life, but everyday was the same.

     Over the years, she forgot about the list and the red shoes.  Well, maybe she didn't forget.  Maybe she just never mentioned it.  Maybe she thought of her list often and thought, "Three out of four isn't too bad."  Maybe she became content with life, which is okay.  Being content and appreciating what you have is good.  

     But now she was lying in a hospital bed.  She heard the doctor tell her family that she didn't have long.  All of a sudden, red shoes were all she could think about.  Red shoes and all of the things that she didn't do to be worthy of them.   She realized she could never wrestle an alligator.  This was the only part of dying she couldn't stand. Her daughter was sitting with her in her final moments, one last conversation with her baby.  

"Mom, do you have any regrets?  Anything I should avoid regretting?"  

"I never bought red shoes." 

"Red shoes?  That's your biggest regret?"

"Yes.  I always bought black or brown so they would go with everything, but I have always wanted a pair of red shoes."

     These were her last words.  Brittany never figured out if this was really her biggest regret or if these were the ramblings of old, dying, senile woman.  So, Brittany went out and bought two pairs of red shoes, just in case.  She got a pair to bury with mom so she wouldn't have to regret it in heaven, and a pair for her in case she ever felt the need to wear them.  But, seriously, what would anyone wear with red shoes?  

     I don't write this to depress you, because Sue really did live a wonderful life. I write this so that you might be inspired to do something worthy of a woman who wears red shoes.

By: Acacia Faye

Narrative ~ Popular Preppy Boat Shoes ~ LbtS ~ 3

Popular Preppy Boat Shoes 

By: Lady By The Sea

     I once bought a pair of preppy shoes. Preppy boat shoes that were the 'in' shoes of the time and, not only that, but they were the popular, preppy shoes of the year. These shoes were the right color, the right size, considered cute, and they were on the expensive side- even when they were on sale. But, I bought them because I thought I would try something new and treat myself. However, when I wore them - oh no- they hurt my feet! They weren't working for me. Nope. I felt uncomfortable. My feet felt out of place and nothing I did made these shoes work for me. I tried insoles, pads, wearing socks, not wearing socks, and getting the popular preppy boat shoe socks. Even duct tape didn't help.

     It was like having a pea under my mattress and no matter how I tried I couldn't ignore that pea in these popular, preppy boat shoes. I couldn't figure out why I couldn't get comfortable or how I could slowly start to hate these expensive shoes that felt like walking on a rough road with a tiny wood-chip stuck in the inside sole. Oh, how my sole wanted it removed. So, I chunked them in the back of my closest and got my old pair of scuffed up Chucks with 'Jesus Loves You' written on the toes, and my feet felt at home again. There was no pea under this mattress. It was like I was walking on soft familiar carpet in my house for the first time in months. Oh, how my soles rejoiced in my old shoes. I accepted the fact that I'm not the popular, preppy boat shoes kinda person, I'm classic with a touch of unique.

Essay ~ Shoes ~ NL ~ 3

Shoes

By: Naomi Lea

     Does one's choice of footwear reflect a person's personality or life experiences? I believe it does. Usually, when someone buys a pair of shoes, there is a reason behind the act, however frivolous or purposeful it may be. Hiking trips call for sturdy boots with ankle support. Fancy balls and galas require heels that sparkle and go with the gown. Everyday commuting shoes need to be clean, casual, and comfortable, depending one one's occupation. I usually sport a pair of grey Vans that go with just about any colored clothing, and I sometimes interchange them with brown hiking boots or brown heeled boots.

     What I wear speaks to what I do on a daily basis. By their neutral and plain design, my Vans say that I obviously do not like a lot of attention drawn to my feet. The brown casual boots are waterproof and good for woodsy treks and walks around town. They say that I like to be active and need footwear that protect my feet in the activities I like to do. My heeled boots show that I occasionally need to dress up and make the impression that I actually care about what I'm wearing. Luckily, these dressier boots are also waterproof and comfortable even though I'm elevated a few inches higher than usual.

     Just as my shoes speak for their owner, other shoes do the same. I ride the subway everyday and whether I sit or stand, my sights are cast down towards the floor so I don't accidentally stare into the midst and lock eyes with a random person. However, with this indoor landscape view, I have lines and lines of shoes around me filling my peripheral vision. Each pair goes along with its wearer and tells a little bit of their story.

     
     I see the business shoes that hug leather briefcases set on the floor. There are combat boots from soldiers with their camouflage pant cuffs tucked into the olive green socks. Folks wear running shoes that look like they have accumulated some mileage and walking shoes that look fresh out of the box. Name brands like Nike, Puma, Adidas, New Balance, and Sketchers walk before me, showing that their owners either truly care about the quality of their shoes, or they know what brands the actors and idols of South Korea wear. Many choose shoes that specifically go with their outfits, while some folks evidently wear that one pair every single day and will probably buy another similar or identical pair to continue doing the same. Some shoes are dirtier than others, indicating that the wearer either does not take care of the shoes or lives in a rural or muddy area. Sometimes I feel confident enough in my ability to tell a person by their shoes that I don't bother to look up and see who they really are. Especially when I see shoes that blare the brands make young people flock to them because their favorite K-pop star or actor wears them. Many people in Korea pick their shoes so they can be like everyone else; desperately trying to keep the standards without sticking out of the mold. I can't say that I don't do the same.

     Then, my eye catches a familiar design. I see some shoes that remind me of what my grandma used to wear. The elderly woman, probably a grandmother herself, sits on the subway seat facing me and wears black shoes that are a mix between sneakers and generic orthopedics. They have laces, but also a Velcro strap at the top. She probably doesn't want to have to bend down to bother with the laces, hence the fastening ease. Looking up, I can see her head on her chest, softly snoring. A few buzzes from her lap cause her to slowly wake and I see using her smart phone encased in a bedazzled black and silver folding wallet with a shiny strap. She brings it very close to her face, and her eyes squint as she taps slowly on the screen, each touchscreen button accompanied with a loud "clack," sound effect. She then pulls out a small plastic bag of rice cakes from her purse and begins to snack on them.

     Many elderly women over age fifty wear such shoes and exhibit similar behaviors. When those types of shoes come onto the scene, I know right away who wears them and probably how old they are. However, today, I think about this woman and her phase of life as associated with her shoes. One day, I will be her age (Lord willing) and will want extra support for my feet. Will I be trading in my laces for Velcro straps because my back will be too pained to keep bending down? Will I be pulling out traditional rice cakes from my bag and snacking on them as I ride the subway? Will there even be subway trains when I'm that old, or will we have teleportation by then? Well, that question can wait for another time.

     In my pondering, the old grandmother alights from her seat and gets off at the last stop. There now sits a middle aged man with black loafers, ankles stacked and arms crossed. I don't bother to look at his face. In a few stops, I will also have to get up and carry on with my own commute. I have to keep on in my own shoes for today and worry about the shoes of tomorrow for when it's actually time to wear them.