Take off your shoes. Go ahead, do it. Come on....Ok. Now, take off your socks. Pull your right foot up into your lap and look at it. Ignore the fact that you miiiight just need a pedicure and take a good look at your sweet feet. On my right foot, I have a scar in the arch. When I was about 7 I was climbing in my closet and stepped down on the corner of my wood-framed chalkboard. It's about an inch long and has been part of me for over 20 years. Now, take a second and do the same with your left foot. On my left big toe I have a scar from my first set of stitches. I was 20 and cut my toe at the lake while throwing the ball for our water-loving lab Wiley. I have scars on the backs of both heels from a lifetime of blisters. This tender-footed girl gets a blister from even the most comfortable shoes. Do you have any marks on your feet like I do? Now how about your shoes? Do your shoes tell a story? On the heel of these great suede red pumps I have is a gash where the sidewalk took a piece out as I walked to see Dirty Dancing downtown at the Hobby Center. On my rain boots I have some imbedded mud from my time in the wilderness. On the outside heel of every right shoe I own is a spot that is worn down from having my foot on a gas pedal. Driving kids back and forth and back again. On my black Reefs is paint from working on furniture in my garage.
Only I know the story of the marks on my feet and shoes. Only I know where each little blemish came from. Each tear, each sore. Each imperfection. No one else can tell that story but me. Not even the people who are closest to me know all of these things. Since you don't know the story of my feet....and I don't know the story of yours....how bout we not judge each other's walk. Let's not pick apart our friends and loved ones because of decisions they have made that we don't understand. Because, after all, we don't know what scars others have on the bottoms of their feet that have made them walk the way we do.
1 month ago