feet

I just ran through the grass barefoot, and it felt like nothing else. It was like a childish sensation, that feels your heart with joy. Nothing compares to feeling the grass, the texture of the driveway against your toes, squishing between your feet. I just ran through the grass barefoot.
Yet with all the glorious sensation of this, it reminded me inevitably of camp....and E. When barefootness wasn't just a moment of spontaneousness, but a way of life. You'd do it anytime, it was possible: not during activities, but every minute in between. Sometimes the counselors would tell you to stop, but you'd do it the next day. They did it all the time, why couldn't you. It felt natural, the grass softer then any rug, the mud squeezing between your toes. Not that you minded. No, mud was good, it made the random patch of grass behind the dinning hall, pleasant to walk on. Mud smoothed the rocks, and it felt good. And in any chance it was better then shoes that never dried or go clean of the mud. Feet were meant for this, they didn't care. And it was camp, dirty feet bothered no one. Those were the times.
I ran through the grass barefoot. It made me feel like it was summer again. Like those precious week of carelessness, that put life in a fresh perspective. It is not yet cold, fall hadn't taken over everything. But summer is gone, the tiresome page or reality has begun. No longer will it be warm enough to kick off your shoes outside. Nor will there be time or mood. But for now it felt a bit better, like summer is still possible. I ran through the grass barefoot today.