On Tuesday, I put my cleats on for the first time since I was 17. The tattered lace was still on my right shoe; I had this flashback that I wouldn't change the lace in 1997 because my team was on a winning streak. Stringy bits of shoe lace, I tied them in a bow. My 31-year old feet found the accustomed grooves and felt more familiar than they have in years.
People always talk about finding themselves. Lately, I suspect it might be more of a rediscovering.
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