Three pairs of shoes!!! That’s Old Hoss’ advice in his comment to the post below.
Why I have three pairs of sneakers alone, not including my radical pink ones. And every woman knows that you can’t have too many black shoes — flats, heels (various heights), sandals… And then there are boots, and you need at least two dress boots — black and tan — and then you need good snow boots (at least you do if you live in the Northeast)! And now it’s almost summer, so there are sandals to wear with skirts, sandals to wear with shorts, dress-up sandals, sandals you can wear on the beach — slides, straps, leather, rubber, denim, metallic, black (of course), beige, and, to be in style, orange.
Only men can live with three pairs of shoes!
I wonder if I could only take three pairs of shoes with me to wear for the rest of my life, which I would choose.

I’ve never been one to easily let go of things that are “mine” — except for money, that is. That seems to slip away amazingly easily.
Situations have to get very, very drastic before I let go, even of responsibility. When I run out of closet space, storage space, time, and hope, when it’s obvious that I have no choice, then I let go — of people, jobs, old t-shirts, books, shampoos for blonde hair. And shoes. Sometimes, shoes are the hardest.
As a single mom, I kept my house in the country until, all at once, the roof leaked, the septic field needed to re-done, and the deep ruts in the long, up-hill driveway were beating up my undercarriage.
I have this fantasy of living like (what I prefer to believe were) my gypsy ancestors — a colorful life with few important possessions, an aura of mystery, and all the time in the world to be magically creative.
But I’m not ready for that yet.
I’m still in the long-letting-go phase.
When there are more bad days than good days, when the elemental connection is broken, then I’ll be ready.
I’ve begun cleaning out the clutter of my everyday life, beginning with the shampoos. I’ve got a way to go before I move on to people. And shoes.
Meanwhile, in this time of riding caregiving’s emotional waves, I hold onto the lifelines I have — my daughter and her family, my friends, this space.