My feet has inherited the dryness of my dad’s, and I’ve passed it onto Caleb. I don’t expect improvement in that area now that I’m 58. But darling Ed, he takes over my feet, gives me pedicures, and rubs them with moisturizer. I am so blessed.
My feet have gone wherever I have gone. I think about how these feet have marched across many a football field and streets for parades. My faithful feet were reliable all through several years of band camp and marching down Derby Hill for the Soap Box Derby.
My feet have raised money for Nazarene missions, Alzheimer’s disease, and Akron Children’s Hospital.
It’s easy to take my feet for granted...and as bunions have become obvious and make wearing stilettos a thing of the past...I realize how they have served me.
My feet have often been the vehicle I have used to capture photographs along pathways and photowalks. They have brought about discoveries and helped me see the world at a slower pace.
My feet have served others. I now have to walk through up to three buildings to meet with my patients and families. Sometimes multiple trips a day. Counseling. Linking others to services. Providing emotional support. Listening. Giving cafeteria vouchers or a parking pass or a gas card. Memory making.
My feet bring comfort at night as I rub them together under the covers when I go to bed at night. They love to be bare and the less confining the shoe, the better! Flip flops are the favorite fashion of my feet...and we hang on to wearing them as early in the season and as late in the season as possible.
My feet hold a place of honor, as they are what must hit the floor first in order for me to begin a new day...a new adventure.