Sunday, December 19, 2010

Warm Feet?

Warm Feet 02 600

My feet are the stuff that legends are made of.  They’ve always been ice cold.  When I was a little girl I’d shove them between my mother and the bed to keep them warm at night to which she responded, “Get those blocks of ice off of me and put some socks on!”  But I was never one for wearing socks, so I started running in a effort to gain some reprieve from my icy appendages.  I ran with the wind, and without it – for any reason, or no reason at all.  My cold feet carried me over what must be a million miles and a thousand lives – propelling me to the highest highs and dragging me to the lowest lows.  Eventually, my cold feet learned to carry me far away from anything that might warm them, good or bad, fearing that any warmth would do away with the icy edge that gave them wings and let me fly.  And though my legs are so very tired and my mind has committed my heart and soul to figuring out how to thaw these little blocks of ice for myself, they are still pretty well frozen-solid.

As luck would have it, someone showed up to hold my hand while I try to melt these little “blocks of ice.”  The warmth that radiates from him is way more than enough to send my icy feet into sub-zero temperatures as they prepare to carry me away.  But today, my heart and soul won the battle with my feet and decided that in lieu of leaving a “Dear John” letter with no forwarding address in an empty bed, I would put on some socks and stay put.