I heard Ari discussing if she'll get rid of me today. I always knew this would happen, but this is the first time it's felt real. The notion of a fleeting existence. Or, at least the crumbling of my prime. I guess I shouldn't have let myself hope– believe I would be hers forever. She always treated me with such care. I've seen others come and go, but I was the one by her side through it all. Is it true that I could be so easily replaced? I've been a witness to Ari's entire adult life, yet I'll still end up in a box in the back of her car. The only belongings I'll be allowed in my new place of residence are my cherished memories of her and our adventures together. I wonder if I'll ever take up space in her head once I'm gone.

When she remembers strolling along the Pickins campus for the first time, will I be there? So many familiar feelings and textures that took on a whole new meaning. The central lawn became the setting of many distracted study sessions, rushed lunches, and ultimate frisbee meets. The grass and I had a bit of a love-hate relationship. When the weather had been kind, the blades would tickle me playfully. In return, I would step lightly and watch out for creatures hidden between them. However, after a day of rain, mud would seep into my crevices, threatening to dry hard and stiffen my joints. Thankfully, Ari never allowed the dirt to settle, gently scrubbing my surfaces whenever I got filthy.

When she remembers her first casual coffee date turned impromptu-dance-night, will I be there? For whatever reason, she had some kind of instant connection with John, and their date lasted an excruciating six hours. That's a bit harsh; it wasn't all bad. The first couple of hours were actually rather pleasant. I got to rest for a while without letting go of Ari, unlike our time spent at home. The problems started when the monster some call John suggested they continue their date on the dance floor. I didn't mind walking all the way across town, but I am clearly not built for dancing. Much less that of the ballroom variety. Even so, I was not the one causing issues. Was it my fault if John's inexplicably large feet landed on top of me every few minutes? Why on Earth would he suggest dancing without the ability to conceal his obvious lack of talent? Of course, Ari came to my defense. She mocked his clumsiness and scolded him for scuffing me up, albeit all too lightly.

When she remembers pacing in the hallway outside of the hospital room where her dead father had lain, will I be there? The bare walls and dim lighting echoed her blank stare and the absence of the usual spark in her eyes. She held a sense of urgency in her stride, like she was attempting to outrun her grief. That is one function I would do anything to obtain. The ability to walk away from reality. To carry Ari safely into a world without pain, without loss, and with her father. Unfortunately, this is not a feature I have possessed at any point in life. All I could do for her was soften the landing of her feet and protect them from contact with the cold tile. It may not have seemed significant at the moment, but I think one jarring touch would have been too much for her to bear that day.

When she remembers John getting down on one knee and asking her to marry him, I know I will be there every time she tells the story. I have heard her tell it enough already to know I am an essential part. While Ari had no idea what he was planning, I am always under the impression that John is conjuring some sort of scheme. Maybe this was his plan all along. It's clear that he never respected me, and maybe proposing was him trying to steal her away from me by making me look bad. It worked on some level. Before she had time to fully process the question, she started yelling at him. Not because she was angry with him, but because she was angry at me for being there. As if my presence tainted the moment with informal dress. Supposedly, heels are the shoes of proposals. The shoes of proposals and the shoes of weddings. Neither I nor her father will have the chance to walk her down the aisle. I suppose I should be glad that I got to spend so many moments, good and bad, with my beloved Ari. I will have parted with her after living to the fullest. I wasn't overused to the point of having holes or being unwearable, but I was worn regularly enough to get to experience her life through little snippets. When I am gone, I won't have been forcefully taken away from her like her father, but given up by choice. A sign that she's ready to move on into the next chapter of her life. I much prefer her breaking my heart to me breaking hers.