It's what happens when I think inside the box.

 

Some years ago, I bought a pair of shoes that, at the time, I thought were a bit too expensive but bought them anyway.  Today, some years later, the shoes are long gone but the shoebox still remains.

 

Once in a while, usually when the weather prevents any outside activities, I enjoy a little bourbon, sit by the fireplace and go through the old photographs in that box.  Some are in color, though most are black & white.  Each, in its own way, carries fun memories.  They are old friends, still bringing smiles.  It's also a good check for me.  So far, I still recall everyone's name.

 

I wonder if I am in someone else's shoe box.  If I am, I hope I'm in color and smiling, not looking goofy like I usually do, or with a bad haircut.  That happened way too often.  I guess we only notice those type of things in ourselves.  I see them in my pictures but never in any of my friends.  Maybe that’s just how we are.  I’m not sure.  Self-conscious, or simply nit-picky, not sure which.  But others are always just as I remember them.

 

The folks making new shoes put various chemicals and protectants on the leather.  Those fumes permeate the interior of the shoebox.  I’m guessing it is those fumes keeping my friends looking good as new.  I can’t really prove that, but look at these people…  They look as good as when the picture was taken.