The Right to Bare Feet

It is my strong belief that life is taken much too seriously. For instance, there are mere moments in life in which shoes have no place at all. As shocking as that sounds, I do have a point. Try to follow.

As a shoe lover, I have a few pairs of fabulous footwear. You know, the usual two pair of tennis shoes, some chucks, three pair of silver shoes, red flats, a skater shoe, several patterned flats, four pair of black pumps, the endless supply of flipflops, some brown heels, a wedge or two, the gold sequins, six boots (in pairs), and the list can keep going. Though shoes mean a great deal more to me than meets the untrained eye, there is nothing wrong with an occasional shoe-less frolick. (Yes, I said frolick!)

It was not long ago when the sky was dark and the week was rainy. Now, do not misunderstand me when I say this: I love the rain. I do not love what it does to my hair when I'm on my way to a specific place for a very specified purpose. I do not care for the runny makeup that is easy to acquire when I'm out and about in nature's shower. When I have nothing special to do and nowhere interesting to go, I love the rain. This day in particular, I was coming home in the downpour. As soon as I reached the driveway, I kicked off my satin silver shoes and ran through the grass. My makeup smeered and my hair was downright nasty, but I could not care any less than I did at that moment. I could have been a six year old for all the fun I was having splashing in puddles and sliding in the grass. This was a moment when I did not take myself very seriously. I did not take life very seriously. My shoes were still very serious, but they were safe and dry. As for me, I took my energy, imagination, and bare feet outdoors to enjoy the rain.