shoehorn

The quiet ritual of a shoehorn, reconsidered

There is something quietly intimate about a shoehorn. A new pair of loafers arrived, hair calf and delicate, and with them came the reminder of a ritual I had long abandoned. My father used his every day. I realized I never do, mine have disappeared into drawers, forgotten. It is not the norm for women's shoes, but perhaps it should be. A small, intentional act of preservation.