On April 8, people around the world who ordinarily wear shoes go shoeless to raise awareness of the millions of people who never have the luxury of wearing shoes. This year I decided to participate while going about my day as usual, and record my thoughts throughout the adventure.
6:00AM: Evelyn awoke crying, soaked in pee. I grumpily rolled out of bed barefoot, searched for my slippers, remembered it was April 8, turned up the heater instead.
7:00AM: Cold feet on tile floor in bathroom. Ants on the floor ... now ants on my feet.
8:15AM: It is 43 degrees outside as I walk under the house to our laundry room to start a load. Tree droppings litter the wooden boardwalk (I should have swept, damn it) ... they hurt my soft, uncallused feet (the spiky oak leaves are the worst). When I reach the laundry room I wince as I walk across sharp ice-cold gravel to reach the washing machine.
9:00AM: Ahhh ... hot water in the shower feels SO good on my cold feet. Reminds me of days of yore when I would sink into a hot bath after playing outside barefoot in the grass. It feels like burning. Good burning.
10:30AM: Leaving the house. Have to remind myself at least seven times that I don't need shoes.
10:35AM: Slowly walking down the steps to the car (there are 85 of them). The mossy steps at the bottom feel nice and soft, and I'm not as scared of falling as I usually am because I can feel the ground much better. Get to the car and remember that it's all muddy along the driver's side. Doh.
10:40AM: Drive with muddy barefeet to the library. I have to park far away because for some reason the Fairfax public library is a very popular place to be on Thursday mornings. The parking lot cement is very ouchy. Before she outpaces me, an old woman says, "My, you must have very callused feet!" "Actually, I really don't," I reply. She looks puzzled.
10:45AM: Oooh, soft carpeting inside the library.
10:55AM: Ouch. Rough cement all the way back to the car. Perhaps made worse by carrying a 16-pound squirmy baby and four books.
11:15AM: Find the closest parking spot available at the farmer's market. Walk around farmer's market carrying baby and ever-growing load of vegetables. Samosa guy persuades me to buy samosas and cilantro salsa that I don't really need. I discover that the east end of the farmer's market pavement is much rougher than the west end.
12:45PM: Arrive at outdoor mall to meet mom and the grandparents for lunch. Walk into A.G. Ferrari's, order a sandwich; no one notices I am barefoot (or if they do, they don't say anything).
1:30PM: Walk around REI with the family. For the first time am content with walking as slowly as my 87-year-old grandparents. Go into bathroom and am momentarily disgusted that I am barefoot in a public restroom. Make a mental note to scrub my feet really well tonight. Wonder if people think I'm in the midst of trying on shoes.
2:15PM: Ambling out across the now blazing hot, ouchy parking lot to the car. My feet feel burnt and bruised. Really over this barefoot thing.
2:45PM: Up the mossy stairs to my house loaded like a pack mule with vegetables, baby, and books. This time it is decidedly less romantic.
2:50PM: Home. Smooth hardwood floor and rug. Aaaahhhhh.
4:00PM: Decide I am not leaving the house again today. Scrub the heck out of my feet.
4:45PM: The sun is getting lower, and my house is cooling off. I am looking forward to my slippers at midnight. This has been an interesting experiment, and I have learned that though I like being barefoot sometimes, shoes are very convenient for traversing terrain (DUH!). Even though most people probably think that this was a silly thing to do, I enjoyed it. It's such a great perspective shift to go without something that you see as essential to your life for a short time. It was hard, and painful at times. I thought all day about the people in our world who go shoeless. And tomorrow I am REALLY going to be loving my socks and sneakers :)
