"And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet, and the wind longs to play with your hair." -Kahlil Gibran I do not have a foot fetish, contrary to what this blog may suggest. I do, however, like my feet. They are truly marvelous creatures. I don't remember learning to walk, but I'm pretty sure I did it. I remember when running was enjoyable (when I was 8). That complete abandon you feel when you plummet down a hill, arms wide. Not possible without feet. In high school, I tried out for drill team and was introduced to the beauty and wonder of dance. I danced in college, both on a team and in ballroom classes. I ate it up, couldn't get enough. Jumping, twirling, floating across the floor. John Dryden said "Dancing is the poetry of the foot." My feet were authors of great poetry. I haven't danced in a very long time, but in the back of my mind there's always the hope that someday I will again. My feet miss it. They've been busy, tho', my tootsies. They have walked miles trying to hush babies. Not to mention the many times they've been forced to sprint after a child who thinks running from mommy is so funny. Together, we have climbed stairs, kicked soccer balls, raced the playground, and paced many ER rooms. They love the feel of cold water in the summer and fuzzy socks on a winter morning, and the feel of a massage- any time. When a king-size bed, and usually a toddler, separate my hubby and I, my feet will wander over to find his, just enough contact to say 'I'm still here'. They are also talented, I can pick things up with my toes. Or pinch you with them. Oh, and they really hate shoes. As soon as I walk in the door, they kick them off, usually before I even get to the bedroom. I am so grateful for my feet. They may not be beautiful, but they do their job and they do it well.