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Ten reasons I love my feet.
Because they taught me to run, hop, skip, and jump. Barefoot and brave.
Because as a kid, after a hard day in the mud and sand, they tasted good and salty.
Because they are clever and polite. And because they never let me down, even when they have
danced all night.
I love them for their lumps and their bumps and the stories of their scars. I love remembering
all the places we have been together and wondering where they will take me next.
I love how they curl when they are happy, and cringe when they are not. How they stick
together when they are cold, and spread apart when things get hot.
I love that on my wedding day my feet carried me up the aisle. And when twice I got pregnant
they carried me and my child.
They still run, hop, skip, and jump. Still barefoot and brave. They would still like
to be played with but do not get much attention these days.
I love them like two faithful friends always good company. We do not talk much, but we
walk a lot. 10 toes, 2 feet, and me.�