The Other Shoe Drops

The new pair of blue two-tone Vans that Number 2 wore at my father's funeral had been sitting outside of my closet for the last 11 months.

They had belonged to my father and my brother thought that it was a nice way to pay tribute to him on that day.

Especially since, as he described in his eulogy for my dad, he had left another pair of his Vans at the Shoe Tree (do a search for it if you are new here...everyone else knows what I'm talking about).

But since then, they've sat about six feet away from where I'm writing today.

I didn't want to throw them away but I also wasn't going to be wearing them any time soon.

I didn't want to donate them either.

I didn't know what I wanted to do with them.

Until, suddenly, I did.

I would take them with me to Hawaii.

I would leave them on a beach with a couple of leis.

And I would take a moment to think about my dad.

Now I'll be honest here, dropping off a pair of shoes wasn't the only reason for going to Hawaii.

The Commander and I hadn't had a significant vacation since 2003 (pre-Chicken) and with another child due in November...well...it wasn't quite now or never but it may have been now or 2009.

Also, I hadn't taken any vacation since the Commander went to Space Camp last July. We all know what happened during that week (once again, search for Space Camp in this blog).

So last week, we went to Hawaii.

We spent all of our time on the North Shore of Oahu at the Turtle Bay Resort. There were people that we could've had visited (sorry Carrie! sorry Greg!) but what we really needed was some downtime as a family.

We needed to relax.

I also needed to get those shoes on a beach and like so many things in my life, I put it off until the last minute.

As we were packing to leave yesterday, I pulled the shoes out of my luggage and placed them in a Foodland bag along with a couple of leis that we had received the night before at the Polynesian Cultural Center.

We left our hotel and headed west along the North Shore and I looked for the perfect spot to leave the shoes.

I passed two beaches and was about to pass a third when I decided that this would be the place.

I grabbed my bag and kicked my sandals off and walked to the nearest coconut tree.

I surveyed the area and hid from the lifeguard's view.

This is was going to be the spot.

I quickly snapped the last pictures of our vacation and returned to our rental car where the Commander and the Chicken were waiting for me.

Before I could get in, the Commander asked "What beach is this?"

I didn't know so I hopped over to the lifeguard stand to find out.

A bleach-blond kid at least 10 years younger than me leaned out of his perch.

"Whatsup, dude?" said the lifeguard.

I asked if this beach had a name.

"You're at Sunset Beach, dude" he replied.

Sunset Beach.

How appropriate.

I thanked the lifeguard ("Take it easy, bruddah" was his reply) and went back to the car.

I told the Commander where we were at and started the car.

Tears were starting to well in my eyes when I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the Commander crying.

Leaving the shoes there was harder to do than I thought it would be but I know we left a little piece of my father's memory exactly where he would have loved to spend either an afternoon or an eternity.

On the beach.

Listening to the surf.

Watching girls in bikinis go by.

VW