Opinion by EllieCusick  

I planted my black suitcase to my right as I shoved my feet wrapped in mismatching socks into my blue converse. My new converse squeaked as I raced my twin sister into the garage to claim the passenger’s seat. I stretched my feet across the dashboard as we left to go to my mom’s apartment for that week. 

My once vibrant converse have faded into a dull, dark blue color, but I prefer them this way. On Oct. 10 of this year, I placed my clothes into brown boxes in preparation for moving. By the end of October, it will take me 31 minutes to get to school from my dad’s new house. 

At the beginning of freshman year, it took me 16 minutes to get to school from my mom’s apartment. Sophomore year it took me 13 minutes to get to school from my mom’s house. Junior year, it took me 21 minutes to get to school from my dad’s house, which I only have a few days left in. 

Since freshman year, my restless nature has been satisfied through new homes prompting new beginnings. But it wasn’t until the one week I didn’t bring my blue converse with me that I realized my erratic, disorganized nature hindered my ability to adjust to my new lifestyle. 

My sister’s voice gained more and more volume as I frantically gathered my belongings. I had fallen asleep that Sunday of freshman year and woke up to my sister acting as my alarm clock reminding me that we would be leaving in the next five minutes. With confusion and panic monopolizing my thoughts, I grabbed a charger and my uniform. 

That week began in utter chaos, and continued in disarray. That next Sunday, I was reunited with my converse. I refused to allow my previously disorganized week from polluting the potential of a new week. I established a simple Sunday nighttime routine that brings me stability within a life of constant change. 

The following week, as I picked up my blue shoes and packed my things, my Sunday ritual stuck with me like gum on the bottom of my shoe. 

When my dad, who often suggests I buy new shoes, looks at my converse, and sees dirty, over-worn shoes. However, I see shoes that have adapted to the same new territories as I have. My imperfect shoes represent my dynamic life: each dent and scuff blemishing my converse signifies the impact that consistent change has made in my life. As I move into a new home once again, I will take my blue shoes with me because they remind me of the challenges I have faced that have molded me into the person I am today.