Toes
by Milly Strelzoff—Age 29—Hattiesburg, MS
As a baby I was never aware of my toes. I might have sucked on them but I don’t know. If someone sits down and cares to tell you, you have babyhood. Even that is impossible if no one noticed. No one counted my toes out for me so I learnt my numbers even later than most kids.
I always thought I had two toes.
As a child I became painfully aware of my ten toes. I had to cut out the fronts of cast off shoes because I had to make them fit, had to make them work.
I amused myself at school feeling around with my toes and in summer I could tell how hot the day was going to be by how the ground felt the second my toes landed on them. I would touch the surface of the ice on the lake with my toes and I would know when the snow would melt, would know how many days to fall, how many days to wait.
As a young woman, while courting I hid the calluses under my toes and eventually settled for someone. I have never let him touch my feet, not consciously anyway. He loved every part of me but he never knew my feet, never knew my toes. I always wore stockings to bed.
As my marriage limped along, from time to time I would not be able to see my toes however much I bent over. Those were the nice parts. As days went by I would see less and less of my toes till I saw them no longer and a day would come when I even would not care. This happened three times.
I have three beautiful children.
I began to see my toes again but then I began to sit longer and longer in front of a circle. That circle, my plate, became my refuge. Now unfortunately I can’t see my toes again.
When no one is around, I will sometimes take off my stockings and walk on surfaces, wood, concrete, linoleum, carpet, and tile and sometimes in a rare moment I will walk on the hard ground and she will receive me like a mother.
(Image: kygp)
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