Waking in the morning well rested and rejuvenated, my ankles crack with a semi-whirl as my toes curl inward with a full body stretch to welcome the day. Click, click, snap. They are ready for their weary work out. They slowly reach for the floor to feel the soft old dusty carpet, or maybe immediately hit their targeted rubber Nike house sandals. My warm feet sense the cold soft plastic as they begin to support the weight of my half-waken body. As I walk around my one-bedroom apartment performing mundane morning rituals, I don’t notice them again until they are drenched in my aluminum rose-colored bathtub. My fingers and palms massage my feet in soapy water. After sliding through the top and soles of my feet, my fingers go up and down between my toes, feeling the rough calluses on the side of my big toes and the tiny corns on my little ones. A towel then dries them thoroughly as they prepare to be covered in cotton for the day.
In the morning my feet feel cozy and comfortable in my black leather dress shoes. After lunch they seem to begin to run out of room. Continuously hitting the hard pavement, marble and real and fake wooden floors, my toes scrape and press against the side of my shoes. By 6pm my feet are swollen and suffocating for relief. As I peel off my work shoes the odor of the day temporarily permeate my nostrils. Not that bad I have to say, except on those rare days when I wear my emergency nylon socks I keep at the bottom of my sock drawer, tucked away for when I don’t do laundry for a while. My feet breathe again with life, gradually shrinking back to normal size as the blood begins to circulate through their throbbing veins.
After dinner I levitate them on my living room couch, on top of a pillow, rewarding them for a full day of activity and torture. I watch the nightly news staring occasionally at the pair, as the entire stress of the day evaporates with the not-so-fresh scent of the day. Then as the evening progresses the rest of my body catches up to how my feet felt all day. I try not to move around much during my prime time shows, just recuperating, healing, and preparing again for the same routine tomorrow.
Finally, my feet and the rest of me are all ready to call it day. My feet slowly make their way to my bedroom and slide out of my sandals flying up lightly onto the bottom of my bed. Ahhh. I perform another complete stretch, click, clack, crack, and my feet are ready again for their reward for a good day’s work. During the night they comfort each other, big toe calluses kissing in the darkness, until the next time they snap to be awakened once again.
