I am not so patiently awaiting my summer feet. In the Winter, we all get soft, padding around in Mukkaluks, boots, those horrendous looking Ugg things that people wear (but I hear are quite warm). We walk around our house in fluffy penguin socks and store away our flip-flops. And then we slip on rain boots (well, those of us in Ohio anyway) for about 3 months before the summer because God forbid we have a dry day.
But not me. Oh no. I’m working on my summer feet. I’m wearing those flip-flops already, sliding around in them until I twist my ankle. And if it gets below 40 degrees, I’m wearing my Sperry’s, sans socks, because I’m ready for summer feet.
I used to be able to run across my grandparents’ gravel driveway barefoot and not think a thing of it. I want that back. I want those tough callused feet that could withstand anything. And I want to not care if my feet are dirty.
Take Jenny for instance:
Oh we ran barefoot and in flip-flops through fields of goldenrod. We climbed trees and felt the bark with our souls…and our soles.
Those were the days. Let’s do that again, friends. Say in Wilmington? This July? We can run barefoot like madmen and drink on docks?
Wait, I know why I don’t have my summer feet yet…I need to have someone to romp around with. Okay friends–we now have a mission.