mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Summer Feet On Tuesday after work I went for a dip in Lake Washington. The shore of the lake is rather rocky and my feet were quite tender as I entered the water. I stumbled and bumbled my way to an area where I could actually swim without touching the ground. The whole experience made me think back on childhood summers. I recalled how soft my soles would be at the beginning of the season. My winter feet were unaccustomed to being naked and in contact with the ground. I'd "ouch-ouch-ouch" my way across the gravel drive by our bungalow but it would never occur to me to put on shoes. You see, once school ended there were no more shoes to be worn. It's a sacrilege to wear shoes in the summer. I'd spend much of June building up my calluses. I'd carefully experiment with walking on hot pavement and large smooth rocks. I'd step in algae covered streambeds and on grassy plains experiencing the unique sensations. I'd feel the moist, dewy earth between my toes in the early morning hours and the dusty, dry unpaved roads in the afternoon heat. By July, the skin would begin to harden. I'd proudly display the scars of a blister or two. There would be a bit of yellowing around my heels but my surefootedness would have returned. The cool grass would cease to tickle my toes but I could still feel the warmth radiating up into my legs as I trekked across the sand. In August my toes would gnarl and my feet would turn brown. I would scamper up rocky cliffs without even slightly wincing at the jagged edges. I could dance across hot coals if I so choose. My feet were monstrous and I was proud. Inevitable, September would roll around and with it, the back to school shopping at Buster Browns. My mom would desperately try to jam my feet into last Spring's Mary Janes for the trip into town but of course my feet had grown and morphed. After some effort and much crying on my part, we'd forgo the shoes to the shop with me in my stocking feet. The salesman would do a doubletake as his eyes landed on my tootsies, all bare and bruised and then he'd look somewhere between bemused and disgusted. He'd take that shoe ruler, the black one with the slide on it and determine my new size. Then he'd bring out a few pairs and shoe horn my feet into restrictive hard leather cases and I'd know for certain that it was officially Autumn. 5:34 p.m. - 2005-07-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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