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Day 283. in which Bob's shoes are propagating.

I've been meaning to take Dad sneaker shopping. His current sneakers are a nondescript gray pair that Velcro shut. Dad always had a preference for the plain. The Velcro is very handy but there isn't much in the way of support for his arch. Just a bland, ordinary gray sneaker.

Lately, I've been hiding his sneakers from him. It's far more comfortable to lounge around the house without shoes. I also take his shoes, though, because he is less likely to wander outside without shoes. I will not say it's entirely impossible, but it's far less likely.

A couple of nights ago, I was helping Dad was sitting get ready for bed. He was sitting on the edge of his bed. I kneeled down on the floor in front of him and unstrapped his shoes so that he wouldn't wear them to sleep. I pulled the shoes off of his feet and turned to set them on the other side of the door that leads up to the attic so that they would be out of Bob's field of vision.

"That's odd..." and I stopped abruptly. Because on the floor blocking the entrance to the attic door was a pair of nondescript Velco grey snakers. In fact, the very exact pair I had taken off of my father's feet - only in better condition.
"I didn't know you had two pairs of these sneakers."

"Well...they probably came there from down the line, you know," Dad tried to explain.
I meant to ask Dana about the shoes. Maybe Barbara had uncovered them in Cambridge and brought them down for Dad when I wasn't home? But as soon as I was out of the room, I was distracted and forgot about the sneakers.

* * *
While we were making dinner, there was a knock at the door. I wandered down the hall from the kitchen to the front door and was surprised to find it was one of Seth's friends from Tony's Card Shop who had stayed overnight recently.

"When I stayed over, I forgot my sneakers here," the boy said.

Yikes. My eyes opened wide for a second as I processed this. Then, I closed my eyes briefly and sighed.

I walked over to my father sitting quietly on the couch in the living room. Of course, he was wearing the better pair... I removed the sneakers he was wearing. They were warm and a bit damp.

Humbly, I returned the Bob-like shoes to the boy and sheepishly sent him on his way home.