I couldn’t help but notice the flying shoes. Strewn across power lines all over El Salvador was pair after pair of dirty, old tennis shoes that had been tied together and strung over the wires that lined the streets.
A nasty storm had blown through. Lots of thunder and lightening. Buckets of wetness. The Twitter feed from our local fire department alerted us to the dangers of high winds and encouraged the community to hunker down at home until the storm passed.
When I was growing up, ours was on the doorframe between the kitchen and the hall with the red carpet. A vertical trail of penciled dashes and dates that marked the growth of my siblings and I – that eventually got painted over.