Barefoot May 26, 2008
Posted by jewaira in Children, Life, Motherhood, Stories.8 comments
The woman beside me uttered a loud cluck of disapproval and shouted at the little girl running barefoot outside:
“If you don’t wear sandals your feet will get very big and long!”
I thought of long summer days as a child at the beach where we went on our barefoot adventures, feeling our feet sink deep into the grainy sand, treading over sharp rocks, barely missing sea urchins, stepping on spiny shells and long rusty nails.
And of the time there were five long white spines broken off in the heel of my foot and the delight with which I extricated each piece the following day.
I thought of the time at school when I had stupidly run barefoot across the hot asphalt at midday, hair flying wildly. I regretted it later when the soles of my feet were burned.
I thought of when I played volleyball barefoot on grassy turf not too long ago and the soles of my feet were black much to the dismay of my pedicurist that week.
I now think of how I let your little feet grow free of shoes till you were able to walk; of the delight and joy in biting your chubby little toes and kissing your soft soles, making you laugh. And then when you insisted on running barefoot in the hosh (compound) I would warn you about worms and bugs so that you would put slippers on, but you took after your mother’s side of the family, didn’t you?
