Everyone in my family wears unique shoes. My dad’s work shoes are like opals, slippery and shiny. They are trees, sturdy and brown, something you can lean on. They are smooth as butter, patient and slow to soften. My mom’s shoes are black lace-up booties with a small heel. Her boots are like breakfast, you need their help to get going in the morning. My mom’s shoes are warm hugs or chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.

My younger brother Dylan wears tired teal tennis shoes. Well-worn and soft like a blanket. The laces are never untied, so he can just slip his feet right in. His shoes are practical yet playful. My older brother Zach’s shoes are charcoal grey timberland boots. His shoes are happy with an unwavering love of life. They are like the swings at the park, hilarious and hardworking. My shoes are a beat up pair of converse. They are navy blue like the night sky, brightened by the stars. They are shoes that smile on rainy days and splash in puddles. They are bunny rabbits, energetically wandering in the woods. Wandering, with energy, across a world lit up by stars.