They say it is easier to put on shoes
Than to try to carpet the world.
But it’s not always that simple.
When you were little
I delighted in your feet.
So tiny, pink and perfect.
Eager to run.
I put down padding to protect them
And kissed your scraped toes
And dried your surprised, indignant tears.
Later I offered many shoes,
Trying to find your fit and style,
Something to protect your soles,
Cushion the jagged surfaces of life.
Sneakers and sandals and boots.
All tried but quickly discarded
In favor of running free.
And so I ran with you,
Trying to keep the path carpeted,
Trying to clear away the rusted nails.
The goathead stickers, the stinging bees.
The older you got, the faster you ran.
I knew I could not keep up with you.
It terrified me.
Was it worth the pain? The scars? The bleeding heels?
I’ll never know – my soles are tender
And I always wear shoes.
I know that surviving this life requires a barrier
For the rough spots.
But I could never convince you of that.
You loved the feeling of the world under your bare feet.
How I treasure the thought of you now running wild
In a place that will cause you no pain.
Renee Writes 