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I wore these sambas through the pandemic, walking for hours in San Diego to nearly slipping in the snow in Salt Lake City to fully wiping out in the mud with my friend’s dog in the mountains of North Carolina. They carried me on lonely walks and skipped along with me for joyous reunions. They have had holes in them for weeks now (or, more honestly, months). I don’t want to give them up. They were the last pair to see my grandma.

In scrolling through photos, I found how they were originally on September 5th, 2019:

I was just about to start my sabbatical and decided to give the pair before this one last hoorah to the last company meetup I went to soon after. Their last moments on my little feet were walking around universal studios, surrounded by coworkers, having a blast. I dumped them in my parents’ garbage can.

How did I forget they were with me for my sabbatical?! I truly broke them in while exploring Yosemite, resulting in horrible blisters and amazing views of the park as my ~15 mile days added up. I know it might seem strange to have affection for a pair of shoes but, when you wear something nearly everyday, an attachment inevitably grows. Plus, I take photos of them like they are an actual companion so I imagine that doesn’t quite help. What follows are truly a quick sampling of some of the adventures this pair has seen.

What a perfect pair. Here’s their final portrait alongside the pair that will attempt to replace them:

For a final goodbye and yet another one last hoorah, I took them with me to soccer yesterday, hoping I’d manage to avoid stepping on something sharp in the process.

Thank you, tiny but mighty sambas, for the slow walks at sunset, fast runs into the arms of friends, and numerous falls/almost falls out in nature.