As the sun smiled down on us, we walked along side by side. We, as in Mary, Clara, Sarah, and I. We had been best friends for a long time, and we were doing what we loved best. Exploring the neighborhood, meeting new people, and buying junk food from a nearby gas station. So far we had gone to two parks, met up with other friends, ate a box of donuts, and splashed in the river. It was a typical weekend and we were glad it was the prime time of summer. We laughed and giggled over jokes, had serious conversations on the rest of our summer plans, and gave each other piggy back rides. As my mom called me for dinner, we all planned to meet back up at 6:30.
As I skipped to the park, a few minutes late, I realized they were right behind me. We matched our feet, as they went left, right left, in unison. As I was looking down, I looked at each and every one of our shoes. Mary was wearing her cute little pumas, because she is athletic and loves running. She’s the perfect balance of girlie girl and tom boy. Then there are Clara’s shoes. They are white and red tennis shoes, very chick, especially when she is doing skilled jumps. She is the best cheerleader I know, and she isn’t one with a big head. Right beside me are Sarah's moccasins, because she always likes to be warm and cozy, even during summer. Then there are my feet, in flip flops. I’m carefree, go with the flow kind of person. Now as we are walking, Sarah stays on the grass, not wanting to get her shoes dirty, and being careful. Mary is ahead of us, on the pavement, working on her pacing for cross country. Clara is cart wheeling down the edge of the road, and practicing moves. And I sludge through the mud and puddles. My friends look at me in disgust and jokingly laugh, but I don’t mind and continue. We all were wearing different shoes, but all our feet were walking on the same road.