To Those Who Keep Me Going

Dear feet,

I don't know if you can read or not, but I think you and my brain have been in constant communication for a very long time now, so between the two of you, you'll find a way to get this understood.

We have been together for twenty years (and a few months) now. When we first met, neither of us knew how to do anything. All we had were instincts and genetics. And now just look at us! We have done so much learning together - starting with kicking, then we progressed to figuring out how to crawl, then finally walking! And then from then on, we were mobile, and we could run and skip and gallop and swim and galumpher (an ambulatory word I made up in 4th grade, meaning any kind of obnoxious and funky way of getting around. It's a pretty general term).  

After that, our learning hit somewhat of a plateau. We were mobile and upright and that's most of the reason why people have feet. But - plot twist - then we learned ballroom dancing in high school. And that was hard for us, but we did it, and we haven't stopped since then. I'm glad we learned that together. 

Feet, you are ugly. I'm just saying it to you with honesty. But physical beauty is not why we are alive. You are functional, and for that I am thankful. You have been with me in so many places, some of which I don't even remember. Isn't it fascinating to think of things I did when I was a small child, before I was able to make long-term memories, that you and I were both there for but only you remember? 

You went with me to the most beautiful beach in the world in Cornwall, England (and one day we're going back), you've been with me through four years of Camp (as have my favorite pair of Chacos), and you go with me to class every day even when I don't want to go. You are my constant companion.

I have taken you to some questionable places, and you have done the same to me, if we're being honest. It at times appears that you have a mind of your own, and I don't even really mind that occasionally. I like that we work together, and I like that all arguments between us are generally resolved pretty quickly because there is only one body to transport us. 

I paint the nails on your toes periodically, usually with blue, and it makes me feel spunky. Thank you for giving me an outlet of creativity and spunk. Thank you for dancing with me even when you are tired and hurting and you won't stop reminding me. Thank you for keeping me on my toes.

Considering all of the learning that took place in our first twenty years, I am curious to see what we learn in the next twenty (as well as all the years after that). My guess is that we will learn fewer brand new skills (walking, etc.), and more endurance skills - like standing for extended amounts of time. We will expand on what we already know, and we will be pushed to our limit. I look forward to each of the rest of my years with you.

Here's to the good times, and I'm sorry for the bad times (they're usually my fault). Thanks for hanging out with me - and for not having bunions. 

Love,
Lauralicious