Flip-flop, flip-flop. Our shoes smack the earth, slap our heels. They hit the pavement, bounce on the grass, slide through the mud, serenading us with the sound of the season.

They're simple shoes. Foam and plastic. Eight dollars a pair. Bought one spring or another in a burst of optimism, then hidden beneath winter coats and backpacks in a hallway closet. Until.

Until the heat, bringing with it fields of berries to pick, lakeshore boat races, sidewalk strolls, garden waterings. Then, they become our staple, our trusty companion in shades of purple, green, and pink. They take us across the river, down the street, over the yard, through the screen door. They are the beat of our summer: flip-flop, flip-flop.


  1. Isn't that so true...I just found your blog earlier today and have had such a nice time reading through all your posts.
    You write so well. I can feel the passion of every word and I enjoyed every minute of it. :)

    sarah xo

  2. Yes. Flip flops. Couldn't live life without them.