Philosopher Lao-tzu’s oft-quoted “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” has been alternately translated as “The journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one’s feet” or “Even the longest journey must begin where you stand.”
Buck and I pore over maps. I ponder the perfection of a baby’s foot with all of its as yet unrealized potential. My own feet have been in the world for more than sixty years now. The toes are a little crooked, and both feet have bunions that bear witness to the years I wore ill-fitting, uncomfortable, adorable high heels. There’s a small scar on my right big toe where a bottle of cheap cologne broke and cut it when I was racing to get packed for a high school train trip to Washington, D.C. – – the same trip where I had laryngitis and couldn’t speak, even to express awe at the monuments. I’ve had three broken metatarsal bones on my right foot, and they both have several small plantar fibromas on the bottom.
Is it my Calvinist ancestors who have whispered in my ear all these years that a professional pedicure is an indulgence bordering on sin? Whatever. I’m laughing at my oh-so-serious self now, and say thank you to my dear strong feet who have carried me so far in this wondrous life, and who have many places yet to go.
Ta da. My first ever pedicure, before and after. Not exactly a “bucket list” accomplishment, but my oh my, wait’ll you see the upcoming itinerary . . .